


Safe

by sincerelysobbe



Series: Instagram Love [2]
Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: M/M, No Depiction of Violence but Past Violence Referenced, Older AU, Past Abuse, Sander and Amber are cousins, Sander is Instagram Famous AU, Sander's POV on Unattainable, there's a connection fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 51,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22583290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerelysobbe/pseuds/sincerelysobbe
Summary: It had been a long time since Sander felt truly safe, if at all, but he catches a glimpse of a brown-haired man in the moonlight and everything changes.Sander's POV of Unattainable
Relationships: Aaron Jacobs/Amber Snoeckx, Jens Stoffels/Lucas van der Heijden, Moyo Makadi/Noor Bauwens, Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans, Zoë Loockx/Senne De Smet
Series: Instagram Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624732
Comments: 48
Kudos: 224





	1. The Boy Bathed In Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! I finally got around to posting the first chapter of Sander's POV of Unattainable. When I asked at the end of Chapter 3 of Unattainable, a lot of people wanted it so I decided to go ahead and write it. 
> 
> Now, I'm letting everyone know that it will be a bit heavier than some of Robbe's story with one main point being (if you saw the tags) that there are mentions of past abuse. Please do not read this story if you feel uncomfortable with these topics or it's too triggering.

Sander wasn’t for sure the last time that he felt remotely _safe._

The use of the word was foreign to him, but the only time that Sander could pinpoint a moment that he _might’ve_ felt safe was at the warehouse, the one that he was headed towards now, the purr of his motorcycle vibrating his legs as he drove. It had been a staple of his high school, so much so that he still remembered the route to take, the knock on the garage door. He hadn’t been here in years, not since his final year, before his mother had packed up him and Camille and took them with her to Paris for a job, to get away from his father. 

As if the mere thought of the man that was equivalent to a sperm donor had summoned it, his scar lit up like an uncomfortable burn, like an old would that was reopening. 

Back when he was younger, back when his father’s passive-aggressive comments and the way he held them too tightly when he got angry had been considered how he showed love, Sander had been nothing but obedient to him (sometimes, even now, he wished he could turn back the clock, back before the harsh reality of his father’s words fully sat in, because he missed the man he _thought_ his father had been). He listened to his father’s every command, dodged his wrath endlessly, and remained on guard, so much it seemed normal. But, then, he realized it was wrong, the way his father showed love, and so he fought back. His mother would try and divert his father’s rage, but Sander would fight back against him harder, unable to see his mother be the only one getting hurt anymore. 

(The first time he walks into school with a black-eye, he claimed that it was a fight that he had won in an attempt to divert attention away from his mom, not wanting to get her in trouble. His high school art teacher didn’t buy his story and his French teacher pulled him aside, giving him makeup to cover it up, which he took, and encouraged him not to fight… but if Sander was being honest, _she_ didn’t believe his story either.)

Part of the reason he snuck out to the warehouse was to spite him, but Sander admitted that he kept the events of the warehouse to himself. His father was a cop, rigid in making sure that Sander didn’t embarrass him by getting arrested. When Sander had been caught smoking with spray paint on his fingers, he was blessed with a broken arm, a bruised eye, and a scar on his chest (his tattoo covered the scar from sight, only able to be seen if someone knew where to look). The events leading to him in a hospital had been something of a blur, but his mother had enough, grabbing her children and all the important things and charting them on the first flight to Paris. 

It was how Sander had met Eliott, who was his friend before Sander became Instagram Famous and Eliott became an established director, and, through him, all of his friends. 

But, after moving back to Antwerp, Sander hadn’t been back to the warehouse, partially because of Britt (his now ex-girlfriend), partially because he didn’t have the time, and partially because he was afraid that his father might show up and break his arm again for even _thinking_ about going to the warehouse. He knew the fear was largely irrational because his father had denounced all claim and moved to the Netherlands (but, no matter how irrational his thoughts were, he knew his therapist would insist that his feelings were valid).

Over the horizon, he spotted the warehouse. It still looked the same, maybe a little bigger, and there were a handful of bikes and cars pulled up outside, partially obscured by the shadows of the trees around them. It might’ve been something of a miracle that it had never been found before now, by the police or anyone, because there was surely something suspicious about cars and bikes and, now, a motorcycle pulling up to an abandoned warehouse surrounded by trees. 

Sander directed his bike beneath a tree, using his foot to balance as he pressed down the kickstand, cutting off the engine, and pulled his phone from his pocket. Without thinking, he pulled up his helmet, just enough to uncover his face, and sucked in a deep breath of fresh air, tilting his head back. When was the last time he had been out of his apartment? Living in his new apartment, even surrounded by unpacked boxes that weren’t getting emptied quickly enough for his inner, meticulous satisfaction, Sander had finally started feeling normal again. 

Now, outside of the warehouse and the unknown family that he missed so much, he felt a little exposed, a little nervous, like he had changed too much from the person that he had been before. 

His phone buzzed in his hand and he glanced down.

_noor.bauwens sent a message._

_We’re on our way._ _  
_ _I know you’ll probably be taking tons of pictures._ _  
_ _But come say hi :)_

Sander smiled, unable to contain his smile. 

Noor Bauwens had been an old friend of his, back in art school. The two of them got along swimmingly and were interested in more of the same stuff. Aside from Sander’s intense love of David Bowie, the two of them had the same music taste, the same interest in art, a certain fascination for well-done tattoos, the warehouse that he was at. In fact, it was through her that Sander had met Britt (whether that was a good thing or not was still undecided), but it increased the frequency in when they saw each other. When Britt and Noor had a falling out, Sander felt like he lost Noor too. Their uni classes were on different blocks and they always promised to meet up, but they never ended up following through.

Now, though, they had a chance to reconnect. Sander missed having friends outside of Britt and her friends from uni. Since their breakup over a month ago, Sander had come to the shocking realization of _how_ lonely he had truly been. The fact that Amber was always with her boyfriend and his friends, his sister was out of the country on a friend-vacation, and his mother was in America had really sobered up his realization of how controlling Britt had truly been. 

Sander returned his attention to Noor’s earlier messages. When she had messaged him earlier today, Sander realized, quite suddenly, that he no longer had anyone stopping him from going to the warehouse. His father used to sit and watch him until he went to sleep, angry when Sander’s restless mind prevented him from slipping into sleep. Britt had condescending words, often treating him like a child in need of guidance and Sander had gotten used to her words and passive-aggressive comments, wanting to avoid an eventual fight. 

_Hey, Sander. Are you still into photography? If so, can I ask for a super big favor?_ _  
_ _My boyfriend and mine’s four year anniversary is coming up and I’m doing a piece at the warehouse._ _  
_ _But, obviously, we can’t have the mural forever so I was hoping that maybe you could take a photo?_ _  
_ _And, then we’d be able to have the photo with us forever?_

_Of course, I would pay you! Whatever the cost._

_Nonsense. I don’t need to be paid to do a favor._

_Sander, I’m paying you._

_Nope. Not going to accept it. I don’t need any money._ _  
_ _I get paid enough with commissions so you don’t need to worry._ _  
_ _Just let me do this for you. As a friend?_ _  
_ _Use the money and go out to a nice restaurant or something._

_Are you sure?_

_Yes. Absolutely._

_Okay, fine. I’ll be at the warehouse later. I HAVE to finish tonight._ _  
_ _Busy week & no time to go out and finish. I might bring my boyfriend. _ _  
_ _He likes keeping me company._

_Awesome! Knock still the same?_

_Yep._ _  
_ _I’ll see you later tonight!_

_Yup, can’t wait to meet this boyfriend of yours._

_Lol, yeah, I usually bring him around._ _  
_ _If not him, then I might bring my friend, but I think he’ll come tonight._

Returning his phone to his pocket, Sander adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. His camera weighed down inside of it and his apartment keys dug into his thigh, practically cutting through the fabric of his pocket. He quickly replaced his motorcycle helmet with a black mask that covered his nose and mouth, pulling his hood over his head to obscure the rest of his features. The last thing that he needed was for someone to recognize him as _earthlingoddity_ here in a, probably illegal, spray-painting ring. 

That was another reason that Sander stopped feeling safe. 

_earthlingoddity_ was his Instagram handle. Before he had gotten that commission for Eliott’s _Polaris_ , before he quickly gained enough followers to rival some other art Instagrams, he had simply posted what he wanted to and showcased his art. Once his followers reached a certain point, they wanted to know more about them and Sander was willing to give some piece of his life, of who _he_ was, because he loved each and every one of his followers that supported him and loved him. He loved being recognized in public and hearing from his fans in person. 

But, since he returned home with Camille, bickering over what to eat, only to find a brown-haired girl (who, he later learned at the court hearing where he was granted a restraining order, was named Estelle) that he had seen almost everywhere he went in his living room, a set of keys with his front door key on her keyring, he couldn’t help feeling unsafe and not wanting to be recognized. He packed up his things within a day, moving back in his mother’s house, but he didn’t feel safe there either with the memory of his father lurking around, so he found a new apartment, one with higher security, one where only residents could get in with key to the gate outside or a specific combination that was lengthy, and moved there. It was part of the reason why he stayed home so much. 

If he went out and looked over his shoulder and saw Estelle there, he was afraid that he would never feel safe anywhere ever again, forced to only live in a space that was only halfway safe. 

Letting out a sigh and whispering, _you’re okay_ , to himself until he believed it, Sander rose from his motorcycle and moved to the warehouse. His knuckles rapped against the metal of the garage door, echoing slightly. The knock was still ingrained in his mind, beat out with his fingers as he sketched, forcing himself to remember the beat of the knock. Once the rhythmic tapping was complete, the door was rising and Sander quickly ducked beneath it so they could lower it back down. 

He didn’t recognize the eyes of them right inside the warehouse, but one approached from further in. He was older and taller, his hands shoved in his pockets, and Sander didn’t know his name, or remember the code name he used to use, but he recognized (vaguely) his grinning green eyes and the patch on his black jacket. He quickly moved to embrace Sander, grabbing his hand and patting him on the back, “Well, well, well, if it isn’t our own camera boy! Where’ve you been man? It’s been years!”

Not wanting to go into a long story, Sander shrugged and quickly changed the subject, “Around. Mind if I take pictures tonight? One of the others asked me for a favor.”

“‘Course! Been a while since we’ve had someone here to document it all. Always nice to see the progress you know? And, besides, you know that you’ve always been welcome. Just promise not to disappear for years after tonight, yeah?”

Sander laughed, real and genuine, the first one that he’s had in a while. “Yeah, course, just a lot of things happened all at once and I couldn’t get away. Should be here more though after tonight.”

“We’ll catch up later, okay?”

Sander nodded, fairly sure that he had been winked at, but he simply rolled his eyes, moving further into the warehouse and digging his camera out of his bag. Compared to all those years ago, there was at least twice the number of people. More artists talked to one another from behind masks, combining and collaborating on spray-painting masterpieces around the room, on the walls, on trucks and pillars and any surface that would allow for _some_ form of expression. 

It was addicting and fascinating. 

Without fully realizing, the camera was level with his eye and he began taking pictures of anything and everything and everyone around him. 

He took so many pictures that he had to switch out memory disks. He had used whatever remained on the one in his camera, which had only really been half full. Luckily, he had thought about grabbing his extra memory disk and switched them out. He knew that he would never be able to post these photos on his Instagram, or even display the more detailed ones outside of his apartment. But, seeing this environment, experiencing it, sent a thrill up his spine that he had missed desperately. He missed being here. 

It had been too long since Sander had been able to capture this atmosphere without having to worry about getting home to Britt to avoid another fight.

Over the past years, he had fallen into the comfortable lull of being in a relationship with Britt. 

At best, their relationship was fragile, switching back and forth from good to bad like a light switch being flipped, a relationship bounded out of necessity, not of love. At first, it was nice, the sex was good and she was good to him. But, then, once she found out about his episodes and his medicine and everything else that had happened, everything that Sander ever did was a byproduct of his “mania”. Sander wanted to shout that it didn’t work that way, but that would only be a result of his mania too. 

However, as much as Sander didn’t want to admit it, he needed Britt more than he cared to admit. He wanted to be loved, but Britt’s love for him was all he might ever get, might be the only love that he would ever get in this world. She was controlling and Sander gave in to her demands if only to prevent a useless fight that he would never be able to win. She spoke to him like he was a child and she was his mother. But, through everything, through all the breakups and him getting with others, she had stayed around, been with him through his episodes, and, in her own way, loved him. 

But, following yet another breakup and yet another hookup after weeks of Britt’s passive-aggressive avoidance, she had reached up, slapping him across the face and shouting at his face for him to “be normal!” and he had enough. At that moment, Sander had finally come to the conclusion of what he was doing to himself and he had enough. Sander wanted to be loved, but he had seen what had become of his mother in the shell of his father, and he deserved better than that. So, he snapped and kicked her out, leaving a shocked ex-girlfriend standing outside his front door. 

He didn’t deserve that.

No one did. 

Looking through the lens at the arts around him, Sander realized that he didn’t have to be Britt’s “abnormal” boyfriend anymore, the boyfriend who dragged her through rough times, the boyfriend that caused her to complain to her friends, the boyfriend who pretended that he didn’t hear her friends say that she was “so strong” to be with him. He could be anyone that he wanted to be. Next week, he’d be another artist, spray-painting the walls in an explosion of color. But, tonight, he would only be an observer. 

So, Sander took pictures of anything and everything and then some. There was a couple in the corner, pulling down their masks down to kiss, running their fingers through their hair. An artist stood in the middle of a section of the floor, his masterpiece coordinated off by the backpacks of the other spraypainters. There was a man with his hair tied back in a bun, a mask over his face, with a can of spray paint in one hand, a used paintbrush behind his ear covered in bright green paint, and a palette balancing dangerously on his knee, and Sander kneeled to snap a photo of the delicate balance. 

After snapping a photo, Sander turned to try and find a new person to shoot and found Noor on the other end of the warehouse. 

She was at the side of the warehouse, towards a wall that hadn’t been touched all night and a half-finished piece plastered on the wall. She wore a black shirt, her jacket was wrapped tightly around her waist, and a deep red skirt. He could tell from the way that her masked moved that she was talking to someone, moving away from the wall towards a pillar where there was a set of legs. 

As Sander moved his lens and moved to take a photo of the wall, to depict the progress of Noor’s work-in-progress, should Noor ever want it, through his camera lens, he caught sight of _him._

There was a man that sat against the edge of his pillar, leaning up against the untouched pillar of a quiet warehouse. He was sitting on the floor with his phone in his hand, his jacket two sizes too big tucked behind him. He was beautiful, dressed in a pair of denim jeans and a sweater that was a size too big. His hair, brown, was all messed up and ruffled, like the wind had been blown through it, and the tips curled upward. The bright blue moonlight bathed down on his shoulders, accenting every part of his face that Sander could make out from this way.

The mask on his face hid half of his face from Sander’s, but through the camera lens, he could see that he had brown eyes that scrunched up when he laughed. The mask obscured the majority of his features and locked them away from Sander, but there was a knowing twinge in Sander’s stomach, in his mind, his soul, as if everything in his life had simply been leading to one, singular thing… 

_Him_.

Sander blinked in realization, his heart swelling in his chest.

Was this what Senne had talked about all these years ago?

Senne had been one of his closest friends and his roommate for almost two years before he moved back in with his girlfriend at her apartment. Then, life had gotten in the way. Senne had been in desperate need of a place to live _now_ and Sander had been in desperate need of a roommate _now._ So, Amber had traded their information and they had quickly moved in together. For the first two months of their roommateship, Senne would stumble home drunk, curling in his bed and clutching at a gray blanket. Sander would always grab him some medicine, leaving it by his nightstand and pull his blankets over his shoulders. 

It was after two full months later, as Valentine’s Day approached, when Senne came home drunk, _wasted_ beyond relief at only midday, barely able to stand and leaning against Sander as he guided him into the bathroom, that Sander learned _why_ he was drinking so much. It ruined his plans with Britt, who was annoyed that Sander would cancel their plans to take care of the drunk, wasted Senne, but Sander didn’t care. Senne needed him. As Senne bent over the toilet and Sander rubbed his back, Senne choked out, “I thought she was the one. I thought that… I had finally found someone who would always be there and then I went and fucked it up completely.” 

It’s nearly six months later before Sander found out what happened, _everything_ that happened. How Senne’s brother had taken advantage of Zoë, how he had tried to get between Senne and Zoë, how it was almost worked in tearing them apart. But, Senne had been there for Zoë, going with her to the police station, urging her to testify so she could seek justice, trying to do what was best for her. In the end, she needed space and had ended their relationship. Senne couldn’t blame her at all, but that didn’t make the pain hurt any less. 

Even drunk, wasted beyond belief, Senne had been so sure of what he was feeling. 

He was right. 

By the next Valentine’s Day, the two of them were back together. Sander would receive messages to avoid the house so they could have some privacy and Sander would tease Senne because he would never let Sander meet her, but Senne would laugh, saying he didn’t mean anything by it. By the time that Senne moved back in with Zoë at her apartment, he had only met Zoë had a handful of times, only in passing as he entered the apartment and she left it. They made promises to meet up, to hang out sometime, but Britt kept him away from his other friends, claiming that he never spent time with her. Sander would agree with her, only to avoid fights that he couldn’t win, but that never seemed to work out for him. 

_Yeah, this was that feeling. It had to be,_ Sander thought, staring at the man with Noor, playing on his phone and chatting with her. His eyes were squinted like he was smiling. He was the one. It was only once Sander took a half-a-dozen photo, knowing that the camera and the photos wouldn’t be able to properly capture the sight in front of him, that he remembered Noor’s message from earlier. His stomach dropped and he fetched his phone from his pocket. 

_I might bring my boyfriend._ _  
_ _He likes keeping me company._

His stomach flipped, jumping around in his gut. 

_Fuck._

It had taken Sander _hours_ to work up the courage to go over there. The entirety of Sander’s fresh memory card was filled exclusively with pictures of Noor’s brown-haired company (well, almost, he needed some room for Noor’s masterpiece), still playing on a phone, his head down, his head up, looking around the room. His heart thundered against his chest. _He’s the one._ But… if this man was Noor’s boyfriend… He had to know. If he was happy with Noor, if he had been happy these past four years with Noor, would Sander be doing more harm than good? Could he walk away, pretend that it had all been a fluke and that he didn’t have this deep emotional sense of knowing, if it meant that he would be happy? 

As Sander walked over, as Noor stood on her toes and hugged him tightly, as the man’s big brown eyes rose to meet Sander’s green ones, a look of indifference and confusion on his face, as his heart fluttered at the look of innocence on his face, Sander hoped that he could. Because, if he was happy, it was going to hard to walk away. As Sander moved to respond to Noor’s question of how he was, the phone in her hand vibrated and she turned towards the man beside her, extending the phone.

The man looked away from Sander, down to the phone, and took it from her grasp, whispering, “I’ll be right back,” and walking away. Sander watched him go, spotting the look on Noor’s face. Worry and concern covered her face as she watched after him.

After a couple of seconds, Sander broke the silence, commenting, “He’s cute. Your boyfriend.” 

Noor turned towards him, chuckling. “No, he’s not my boyfriend,” she replied. Sander tried to control his breath of relief, and probably failed. “He used to be, but we ended up becoming friends afterward. My boyfriend had to go home. He’s got an important meeting with his mom in the morning.” She glanced towards him again, Sander followed her gaze to him, he had pulled his mask down to talk on the phone, and Sander felt himself breathe a little heavier. “So,” Noor spoke up, nervous and drawing Sander’s attention back to her. “What do you think?” 

_Beautiful._

Oh, she meant the mural. 

“It’s amazing, Noor. You put so much work into it,” Sander informed her, turning back to the mural. “I’ll definitely get a lot of good pictures. We can meet up and you can pick out the best one. Once I can edit it for clarity, I’ll print it out and frame it for you. Just let me know when to bring it.” 

Noor nodded her head. “Thank you so much, Sander.”

“You’re welcome.”

For a heartbeat, they’re quiet. 

“I’ve missed you,” Sander spoke up.

Even from behind the mask, Sander could tell that Noor was positively beaming. “I’ve missed you too.” She threw her arms around him in a hug, holding him so tight that Sander had to squirm to get her to loosen her grip. But, then she pulled back. “We’ve definitely got to meet up. Outside of the picture stuff. We haven’t been able to properly hang out since before you and Britt got together. I miss when it was just the two of us.” 

“Me too,” Sander confessed. 

Noor smiled, beaming. “I wish I could stay here longer. But, we need to get back to our apartment. The rest of our roommates have already gone to bed and I’m likely going to be woken early up in the morning by my boyfriend. Maybe we can meet up sometime next week?”

“Of course,” Sander replied. 

Noor grinned, bending down to collect the remains of the man’s things and rushing over to him. Sander watched her go, holding up his camera to take multiple photos of the mural. There was so much that he had loved about it and he knew that there must’ve been some form of special connection to Noor and her boyfriend. She had been meticulous about every detail, the blending of colors on the wall, the detail of the stars in the night sky. Sander turned to find them talking, the man’s mask still at his neck, and without thinking, he reached up, snapping a photo of the man as he talked to Noor. 

Then one more.

Then another. 

And, then, Noor took him by the wrist and pulled him towards the exit. The man followed easily as Sander turned towards the mural again, taking a couple more. He wanted the photo and the frame to be perfect for Noor, for her boyfriend, because Noor was important to him, still, after all these years. But, still, he couldn’t help turning and watching them go, out the warehouse door and into the abyss outside. 

Once the man was gone, Sander left soon afterward, letting out a breath, his shoulders lighter than they had been before. 

His Instagram story, a photo of himself, his features shrouded in darkness, and the white text across the photo, slanted in a diagonal across the screen, his words reading: _Do you ever see someone and just know that they’re the one?_

His phone had blown up with texts, comments, likes, replies, and direct messages. While he had disabled notifications on the majority of his social media accounts, his phone had been slammed with them as soon as he opened his app. That also hadn’t stopped Eliott, and Lucas through his boyfriend’s phone, from sending him over a dozen text messages. He had made the post on a whim, like he did everything else, but he didn’t care because he _had_ to get it out, confess it to the world. That was him. That was it. 

And, still, hours later, even though Sander hadn’t responded to the original screenshot from Eliott or Lucas’s follow up messages when he didn’t answer, he was _still_ getting messages from the couple through Eliott’s phone.

_Sander._

_S-A-N-D-E-R._

_Answer your goddam phone._

_We need answers. (-Lucas)_

_Hey, Sander, it’s Eliott. Take whatever time you need. Lucas is just concerned._

_No, answer back right now. I need answers. (-Lucas)_

_And nosy._

_As you can tell._

Sander laughed, typing out. 

_Eliott, calm your angry hedgehog._

_I NEED ANSWERS, SANDER (-Lucas)._

_Get home safe. I’m taking the hedgehog to bed (-Eliott)_

* * *

After choosing the best photos of her mural, Sander had met up with Noor to get her approval on which one she wanted to pick. Once she had picked it out and the two of them had talked for the remainder of her lunch hour, Sander went home to finish editing and printing the photo. His art room had been the first thing that he had completely set up and Sander, being a bit of a photography nerd, had been adamant about making sure Noor’s photo turned out perfect. Once it was finished, Noor offered to come and pick it up, but Sander remained adamant about meeting her _boyfriend_.

(Which is only half of the truth, Noor had said something about how _they_ needed to get back to the apartment, her and the man that she was with, so he was _hoping_ that the universe would be kind, allowing them to meet officially, without being interrupted by phone calls and possibly get banished from the apartment together.)

However, by the time that Sander had arrived at the apartment that Noor had texted, the frame carefully wrapped under his arm, Noor had been the one to open the door and they were on their way out. When Sander presented the frame and Moyo had opened it, confused, he was happy that he got to witness the joy and pride that flooded Moyo’s face as Noor explained the presence and its meaning. Sander felt like an intruder, invading in on some personal moment between the couple, but, when they asked, he happily took a photo of the two of them with the frame.

Moyo was nice, grinning brightly at him, commenting on how his bleached hair and his blue hoodie made him look like he was Jack Frost, hugging him as though they had known each other the entire and not all of ten minutes. Sander had wished them a happy anniversary and promised to meet with them at a later date. His old friend beamed up at him and hugged him tightly, making Sander wonder if she had missed his friendship as much as he had missed hers.

On the bus ride home (he didn’t ride his motorcycle over because of the large frame and risk in breaking it without someone else unable to hold it), he sat at the back of the bus, his hood up and his feet propped up on the seats next to him. His phone was in his hand, his Instagram pulled up, and he quickly made his way to Noor’s Instagram profile. The mere thought had crossed his mind to ask Noor for his name, and possibly his Instagram, but Sander didn’t want to explain, didn’t want to risk Noor having a similar reaction to what Britt might have about a guy that he only saw once, so he didn’t ask.

But, once he had gotten home from the warehouse and found another message from Estelle on his Instagram page, he feared that his thoughts were dangerously mirroring the woman that he had been hiding from. She had seen him and decided that she wanted him, quickly moving heaven and Earth to make sure that she would have him. The thought, the comparison, had made him pause, made him wonder if that’s all it had been, but Sander decided that if they met, he would see for himself. If the man had wanted nothing to do with him, then he would respect his wishes. 

He wanted to see if the feeling was mutual, if he felt the same level of connection that Sander did, test the waters, see if it was something worth exploring. Sander’s answers were all a resounding _yes_ from every single atom, cell, piece of his body and soul, screaming into the air around him. But, it didn’t mean that _he_ would feel the same way. 

That’s why Sander wanted to know, _needed_ to know. 

Finding out would be a lot easier if he just had a name or an Instagram profile… _something_.

But, Sander couldn’t seem to find him in Noor’s profile. He was scrolling through her photos, barely enough to really look at the pictures for anyone normally, before moving onto the next. He had gone back months, nearly a year, but there wasn’t a photo of the guy in sight. Most of them were aesthetic pictures, which he quickly scrolled past, photos of Noor and Moyo, or pictures with her friends. 

But, none with the guy. 

As he’s scrolling past another aesthetic photo, a banner popped up at the top and his eyes skirt over it once, twice, before his mind registers the words. 

_noor.bauwens tagged you in a post_

Unable to abandon his hunt, he opened up his notifications tab. It quickly refreshed with every single like and comment that hadn’t been loaded into the tab and Noor’s notification was at the top. The preview showcased the photo that he had taken earlier, Noor wrapped up in Moyo’s arms, the picture frame in their hands, and he clicked on it anyway, smiling down at his friends and their happiness, double-clicking it easily.

It’s only once he reads the caption that his heart picked up in his chest.

 **_noor.bauwens:_ ** _happy anniversary, my love. here’s to many more years and moments together. special thanks to @sterkerdanijzer for keeping me company while I stayed up too late to finish and to @earthlingoddity for taking the photo of my gift and framing it (and the photo credit) love you both <3 _

sterkerdanijzer

Bless you, Noor. 

Without thinking, his thumb clicked on the other username, pulling up his profile. As he did, the bus announced his stop and Sander hurried to indicate that he was getting off. The bus slowed down and Sander jumped to his feet, shifting his bag higher on his shoulder and navigating towards the back door. The driver gave him a nasty look for moving while the bus still was, but Sander was too eager to get off the bus, to get back to his apartment, to care about what the bus driver thought about him. After getting off, Sander practically took off running to his apartment. 

Once he was back in his apartment, his sight was overrun with boxes and his mind breathed out, _right_. He was going to continue unpacking, at least two boxes. Aside from his art room, which still needed a few minor details to be perfect in Sander’s mind (only rearranging his art supplies), the only other thing that he had managed to get done was the sheets on his bed. The numerous boxes around the apartment made him anxious, like there were more things to get done than there actually were, and he wanted to get a major dent in the unpacked boxes done before he needed to start worrying about commissions again. 

Sander glanced at his phone.

 _I’ll unpack after_ , he decided. 

Flopping down on the couch, Sander pulled out his phone and navigated back to Noor’s post, clicking on the other man’s name once again. His eyes found the bio first, hoping to find a name or at least a first name, but not having much luck. _Always surprising, always affordable_. His profile picture was him standing on a pier with a skateboard between his ankles and, without fully realizing, he hit the blue follow button. 

Sander scrolled through his profile, taking in any and all photos of the man in front of him. He was still searching for a name, something to put with the face, but Sander thought that he was even _more_ beautiful now that he had photos that weren’t mostly shrouded in the darkness of the warehouse. Unlike Noor’s photos, he was moving through the photos slowly and deliberately, trying to take everything in. He liked surfing in the summertime (judging from the dates), going to concerts, playing video games, and, unsurprisingly, Moyo turned up a handful of times. One photo was the two of them with a tall, black-haired man and… wait, that was Aaron.

Aaron was Amber’s boyfriend of almost four years. Because of their busy schedules (and Amber had wanted to keep her relationships quiet until it was serious, which it had been for years), Sander had finally gotten the chance to meet him, in person, several months ago. His mother and sister had spoken highly about Aaron, having met him before, and his mother had made a big deal of Sander going “easy” on him. Apparently, he had been nervous about meeting Sander specifically. At first, Sander had teased him and Aaron went along with it, but the two of them had gotten along well. As the two of them left, hand-in-hand, Amber grinned at him, mouthing, “ _thank you_.”

With the move, and well, everything else, Sander hadn’t gotten the chance to see him again.

 **_sterkerdanjizer_ ** _: roomies_

Letting out a slightly frustrated sigh, Sander scrolled through the photos, further and further down into the abyss of his photos. He just wanted his _name._ Sander didn’t want to know everything about him, wanted to learn it all for himself should the man be willing to give it to him. But, he would like to have a _name_ to go with the face of the man that had been occupying his thoughts so frequently lately. 

Sander switched over to the photos that he had been tagged in. 

And, on one of the first few photos, he found what he had been looking for. It was a photo with a taller man (he checked the bio of his profile, his name was Milan) with his arm wrapped around the man he was looking for. Compared to Milan, he was smaller, only barely surpassing his shoulders. But, they looked like they could pass for siblings, maybe they _were_ siblings, he didn’t know, but he let out a triumphant sigh.

_Finally._

A name.

 **_helloolly:_ ** _Partay! (and time to find Robbe a guy)_

Robbe. 

Before he closed the app, having found what he was looking for, his eyes caught a comment exchange beneath it.

 **_sterkerdanjizer:_ ** _Milan, I do not need you to activate broadcast my lack of a love life on Instagram_

 **_helloolly:_ ** _Why not? It might actually let you get one._

 **_jensrolt:_ ** _Do it Milan, he needs to get laid._

 **_sterkerdanjizer_ ** _: Fuck you, Jens._

Robbe _._

Pulling him from his thoughts, his phone was ringing in his hand, vibrating against his palm. _Eliott._ Oh, right, the two of them still hadn’t managed to get together to talk about the piece for Arthur’s birthday. Eliott had talked about wanting to commission a piece to hang in his apartment, but with the move and Eliott’s latest movie beginning production, there was so much that prevented them from speaking about the specifics. 

So, he answered, expecting to hear Eliott’s calm voice, but was met with the demanding voice of Lucas Lallemant, whose calls he had specifically been declining for this exact reason, “You still owe us answers, Driesen!” 

* * *

_You’re so beautiful._

_I’m such a fan._

Sander had never been one for subtlety.

It was one of the few things that put him at odds with Britt, who seemed to live and _thrive_ off subtlety and passive-aggressive remarks. Most times, he ignored them and it’s only rarely that it ever made him angry. She would always try to give him passive-aggressive comments, try to make him see that _he_ was the one in the wrong, but he would always move on, ignore her comments in favor of something else, _anything_ else that could occupy his time. 

But, that had been his relationship with Britt. 

This was something else.

Besides, Sander didn’t want to waste any time. If this was going to end the way that Sander wanted it to end, _hoped_ that it would end, the two of them forever and always, he didn’t want to waste any time. He didn’t want to tiptoe around his feelings, trying to make him see what he wanted. The Sander in his first years of uni might’ve, but this Sander. He didn’t want to waste any time. He had already spent too much time in the wrong relationship.

Besides, there was nothing wrong with Sander telling a guy that he was beautiful, especially when he _was_. So, he had thrown subtlety out the window, like he always wished Britt would do, and hoped that it wouldn’t backfire on him. 

That being said, Sander’s stomach bounced nervously in his chest, performing a choreographed dance that one of his old friends would’ve been proud of, and he pittered around his room, nervously, trying to occupy his mind by sorting boxes but without any real progress being made. His phone was open to the message on his dresser and he glanced nervously at it as he sorted out the things that had once gone in his nightstand. At the bottom of the box, he found a smaller box filled with extra art supplies. 

After taking it to his art room, really the second bedroom, he glanced at his phone and found that Robbe had responded to him. 

_You’re a fan? I literally check your Instagram every day._

Wait, what? Sander blinked down at the message, reading it once and then twice and then a third time before the message seemed to have been ingrained in his mind. 

_I mean… like I see you on my feed every day._

_Please don’t take that the wrong way._

Sander blinked, staring at the messages before backing out. He switched to his notifications, expecting to find Robbe near the front of his followers, or among the ones crowded together, but he wasn’t. Shifting to his profile, he pulled up the people he was following. He was only following over one hundred people, so it wasn’t that hard to find Sander’s own profile among them. 

There was a mixture of dread and elation stirring in his stomach as he returned to the messages, a green dot indicating that Robbe was still online, waiting for his response. The elation was easy to identify, joy bursting from his chest. Robbe _knew_ Sander, long before Sander had known him, and, depending on how frequently he watched his videos, Sander didn’t have to worry about explaining his quirks, wouldn’t have to explain, wouldn’t have to worry about him leaving because of them, or getting mad, because Robbe would already know about them all. 

But, the dread… It was also easy to identify. Sander’s one rule. No dating fans. It had been in place long before Estelle had come into the picture, long before she started to send him messages, long before he noticed her while he was out with Britt (or Amber, or his mother or Camille), long before he and Camille returned home to find her in his living room. And, it was the one rule that he had consistently stayed with.

And, now, he had to make a choice. 

In the end, it wasn’t _that_ hard of a decision because Sander knew, in his soul, that Robbe was worth it. That Robbe was _it._ Once his mind had settled on that realization, he didn’t have to think much more before his thumbs were typing back a response.

_God, you’re adorable :)_

_So, you’re a fan of mine?_

_Yeah._

_Do you listen to David Bowie?_

_Yes, I listen to your David Bowie playlist all the time._

Sander’s heart soared. Quite literally. 

He had spent a long time on all of his playlists, but the David Bowie one that he shared with his fans he had spent almost _double_ the time. He had loved David Bowie for years, since high school. Britt would roll her eyes at him, tease him about it in a way that was condescending, and rolling her eyes when she would walk in to find him listening to David Bowie. His mother and sister would humor him, but no one, not even Britt, had ever taken the time to listen to the playlist that he cared so much about. Of the playlists that Sander had created, it was the one that was listened to the least. 

But, Robbe, who he hadn’t met in person yet, had taken the time. 

And, listened to it all the time, should Sander take him at his word. 

Sander moved to respond, but his Instagram messages were replaced by Britt. She was calling him. Frowning, he answered the call, knowing that she would just call and call and _call_ until he would answer if only to shut her up. He could hear the frustrated tone in her “Hello?” and he had only barely picked up the phone. 

“What do you want?” Sander questioned. “Last time I checked, we aren’t together anymore.”

“Well,” Britt spoke, as though he was a child that was in need of a lecture. Sander rolled his eyes, already wishing that he had just let the phone continue to ring until she gave up. “Noor and I are going to meet up at a bar tonight. She wants to bring her boyfriend and my friend decided that he couldn’t come to dinner after all. So, I wanted to check if you wanted to come with me since the two of you were friends.”

Despite the fact that he wanted to see Noor more, to reconnect their friendship, and wanted to know more about Moyo, who had become such an important part of his friend’s life, he _didn’t_ want to go.

Because Sander knew how it was all going to end. 

Britt would try to introduce him as her boyfriend, try to lean on him, to show him off like he was some trophy for her to win. With each attempt, he would push her away, make a comment that would make her angry to get her to stop, but none of them would work. After a while, Sander’s resolve would break and he would stop shoving her away. But, he didn’t want to end up back in a relationship like that, migrating towards her because she was unable to let him go and move on. Britt’s slap had been the final straw. Her slap was nothing compared to his father’s punches, but he didn’t deserve to be in a relationship where his partner had crossed that line.

No matter how much she preached about loving him and only wanting what was best for him. 

“Britt, I’m not your boyfriend.”

“And? I’m just trying to be _helpful._ ”

Sander rolled his eyes, trying not to scoff. “I don’t know,” he replied, not really able to say no. He missed Noor and her friendship and he wanted to hang out with her again. But, he also _didn’t_ want to be with Britt should she try to claim him as her boyfriend. “I’ve got a lot of unpacking to do. I’m not for sure.” 

“Well, we’re not meeting until later, so text me in the next couple of hours and I’ll come to pick you up.”

Hell no, Sander was _not_ going to be dependent on her giving him a ride back to an apartment that he didn’t even want her to be that. So, his voice might’ve been a little harsher than he had originally intended, as he spoke, “I’ll let you know and I am capable of driving myself,” before hanging up. 

Robbe’s messages appeared back on his screen, his chest warming up at the sight. 

_Yes, I listen to your Bowie playlist all the time._

_It’s a good playlist._

_Oh really? I’m glad you like it._

Sander smiled, his fingers racing faster than his mind. 

_It’s only the beginner playlist._

_The beginner playlist?_

_When do I get permission to listen to the advanced set?_

_When you pass your exam._

_Is it difficult?_

_Extremely._

_That’s going to be a lot of studying._

Sander paused, mulling over his next words in his mind. There was something that he _wanted_ to say, something that was his first initial reaction, but he wondered if it was a little too forward. Biting down on his lip, Sander took a chance, knowing that he’d rather have taken it than avoided it.

_Who knows? Maybe you might be able to bribe the teacher._

Putting his phone down, he moved towards his boxes, beginning to unpack his clothes that had been stashed away in the cardboard boxes. His apartment still felt like a storage closet, filled with large cardboard boxes, and less like a home. And, he _needed_ to get some work done. His mother was out of the country and his sister was out with friends for a well-needed vacation. Since they would be missing Christmas, they were going to meet up at Sander’s for belated-Christmas at the end of January, just the three of them. 

So, he needed to get it unpacked by then, at the latest.

Sometimes, Sander wished that he could unpack everything in one night, putting it exactly where he needed it to be, but he knew that it wasn’t going to happen. He had too many things and he had already spent too many nights up too late, working on commissions. Sander was like his mother in regards to his apartment, a bit of a control freak, because it was _his_ apartment, _his_ space, _his_ place. He had to complete his art room meticulously before he had moved onto the bathroom and the bedroom (and only really put the sheets on his bed so he could sleep comfortably). He was meticulous, but he couldn’t push himself to get it all done at once, not as he did with his last apartment. 

The last time had been different.

Sander glanced to his phone, still sitting on his dresser, the thought of Robbe finding out about him, about him being bipolar that he hid away from Instagram and his fans, made him bit down on his lips. But, before Sander could spiral into his own thoughts, his phone lit up. Would he still want to be with him? Or, would he be like Britt, always blaming everything he did on it? His phone had been trying to lock from the lack of use, but Robbe’s response had given it new life again, lighting up the screen.

_Should I dare take that risk?_

Biting down on his lip, Sander thought about what he could do. Britt would bug him about joining her and Noor until he caved. But, he could easily reject her invitation if he had other plans. Plus, the thought of seeing Robbe in person, face-to-face, to gauge if this was a real genuine connection, he wanted it more than he had wanted anything before. He would take five minutes with Robbe _any day_ over any time with Britt. 

_I’ll give you some advice later tonight._

_If you want._

Sander wanted nothing more than to have Robbe alone, just the two of them. Whether their meeting ended up with Robbe wrapped in his arms or not was practically null and void. He just wanted to be with him, like he had wanted to after he spotted him in that warehouse. With the two of them alone, he could see if the connection was one-sided or not, see if Robbe would even be _interested_ in him, to see if Robbe wanted to kiss him as much as Sander wanted to. 

His phone buzzed in his hand. 

_I’d love to, but I have plans tonight._

Sander wasn’t that surprised. It had been a last-minute invitation. 

_Ah, okay._

_Tomorrow?_

It didn’t take Robbe long to respond back. 

_Sure. I don’t have anything planned after my classes._

_What do you have planned?_

_It’s a surprise._

_Okay, then._

_I can’t have an idea?_

_Nope._

_It’s called a surprise for a reason._

_Fine._

_I can’t wait. :)_

Sander smiled, putting down his phone and moving to finish sorting his clothes, separating what needed to go in his dresser from what needed to be hung up in the closet. Once that was all done and sorted, he opened his phone to play one of his playlists, likely David Bowie, and realized that Robbe had replied again while he wasn’t looking. 

_Oh, I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself._

_I’m Robbe._

Sander bit down on his lip, unable to smother the smile that was fighting its way onto his face. Oh, Sander thought. If _only_ he knew what Sander had gone through to find his name. If only Robbe had known that Sander had been captivated and enamored with Robbe from the moment he spotted him in that warehouse with Noor. 

_One day, I’ll tell him_ , Sander decided.

But, for now… 

_I know._

_But, it’s nice to meet you, Robbe._

_I’m Sander._

It was Robbe’s turn to parrot back.

_I know._

* * *

Sander knew that he shouldn’t have come, but he talked himself into it anyway (and the fact that Britt called him a grand total of _six_ times helped). 

Noor had been excited to see him, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug as he climbed off his motorcycle, and Sander thought that it might’ve been worth it after all. If he got to hang out with his friend that he missed so much and her boyfriend, then it shouldn’t be all that bad. But, as Sander expected, Britt quickly tried to make it seem like they were dating, reaching out to touch his arm, his hand, and his thigh, and the only thing her actions succeeded in doing was made him angry. Sander would flinch away from her, move his chair away as far as he could, and all Britt would do was glare at him, and hiss, “Why don’t you just act normal?”

Sander turned to her and replied, “Why can’t you remember that I broke up with you a month ago?” 

From the way that she managed to maintain a neutral expression and had a deep fire in her eyes, Sander thought that Noor could’ve passed for a serious actor. Her eyes flickered towards him, concerned, and Moyo was giving him sympathetic glances, trying to distract him in conversation and reaching out to hold Noor’s hand in his own. Sander didn’t want to fall into a habit that he had been working so hard to break. 

The thought of meeting up with Robbe tomorrow… 

He couldn’t wait. 

Britt reached out to touch his thigh and Sander flinched away, out of his seat and getting on his feet. “Do you guys want a refill on your drinks?” Moyo and Noor both nodded their heads. Britt might’ve nodded her head too, but Sander didn’t check, moving towards the front of the bar. He ran a nervous hand through his hair as he stepped closer to the bar, waving down the bartender to place a refill on three of the drinks.

He needed a round of cheap beer… or twenty… Maybe he could just buy a six-pack on the way home. With all the anger from Britt brimming beneath the surface of his skin, crawling over him like a high wave that couldn’t escape through his skin. The bartender seemed to spot it because he slid the glass of beer towards him before moving to deliver the other two drinks. Sander sent him a thankful glance, reminding himself to tip him when he gets back. 

He needed to get out of here before he and Britt started a fight that ended with them all from getting kicked out. 

“One more and I’m closing my tab,” Sander questioned the bartender as he returned. The man acknowledged him and took the card that he had outstretched as he passed. As the card ran it’s work and the bartender refilled his now-empty glass, Sander leaned against the counter, taking deep breaths. Then, he heard giggling and felt someone tap his shoulder. It was a small group of girls that had been eyeing him all night, “Are you _earthlingoddity_?” 

Shoving away his annoyance at Britt, Sander grinned, the persona of _earthlingoddity_ (or at least a nicer version of what Sander was feeling right now) slipping over him as he turned to beam at them, “Yes, I am.” The girls giggled excitedly and moved to ask him questions. Sander answered them quickly and without reservation. He had nothing to hide, he never did, and they were much better company than Britt was with her wandering hands and bitter words. As the two of them talked, the bartender returned to give him back his card, directed him to sign the slip of paper, and Sander gave him over a 20% tip (he had enough money and he had been a bartender once; it wasn’t easy).

As Cassandra, as she had told him when he asked their names, launched into a question about Sander’s latest commissions and if he had a personal favorite work that he had ever done, Sander settled against the bar because he was certain that he would delay his return back to the table for as long as he possibly could. 

But, then, the door behind the group of girls swung open and Sander was almost immediately distracted, his eyes finding the brown-haired man that stepped into the bar, a brown jacket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, freckles on his nose and wide, brown doe eyes scanning the crowd. 

_Robbe_. 

There was a man who stepped into the bar beside Robbe. From the way that the taller man (well, taller than Robbe) stood close to him, Sander guessed that the two of them knew each other. He was tall with blonde wavy hair (or was it brown?; he couldn’t tell) with a button-up shirt, a thin jacket over it, and a pair of denim jeans that fit him a little too well. His hair was all messed up, the most obvious level of sex hair that Sander had ever seen before in his life, and his neck was _covered_ in purple bruises. 

He reached out to touch Robbe’s shoulder and the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

As Sander hurried to answer the girls’ questions, he caught sight of them again, or well, at least he caught sight of Robbe again. The two had made a beeline for the table that Moyo and Noor had been sitting at and Robbe threw his arms around Moyo’s neck, resting his head there. The other man was standing right behind him, trailing behind slowly like he was still dazed from whatever, or whoever, had managed to make his hair look like _that._

The irrational buzz of jealousy flared through his gut. 

“I’m sorry, ladies,” he spoke up, accidentally cutting off one of the girls. “But, I need to get back to my friends before they question where I’ve disappeared to.” They looked disappointed but didn’t think much about it or rather they didn’t say anything about it. “It was so wonderful to meet you all.” He grinned brightly at them before grabbing the remains of his drink and disappearing into the crowd. 

As he cut through the crowd, he spotted Robbe, or rather his back. His jacket was still wrapped around his shoulders and he was wearing a pair of denim jeans. He had a burgundy beanie was pulled over his head, the curled tips of his brown hair barely poking out from the brim, and he seemed oblivious of the fact that Sander was approaching. 

He could vaguely hear Moyo’s voice speaking, half-laughing, “We get it. We get it. What ideas have you come up with for the party?” 

“Party?” Sander found himself speaking, gaining all of their attention… including the one who had captured his full and in-depth attention since he had walked into the door of the bar. 

Sander’s eyes connected quickly with Robbe’s. Electricity crackled as their gazes met and Sander felt his breath catch a little in his throat. Being this close to him was making his mind a little bit unfocused on everyone else and only on Robbe, who was staring at him equally as hard. He swallowed obviously, his eyes raking over Sander’s form before moving to meet Sander’s eyes again. There was something about it, Sander knew that Robbe was affected by his appearance, his gaze wandering over Sander again. 

_If only he knew the effect that he was having on me._

“What party are we talking about here?” Sander questioned, glancing briefly at everyone. His eyes flickered over to the taller man, to the bruises on his neck, and he was too curious not to ask, gesturing to the bruises as he asked, “What the hell happened to your neck?” 

“My boyfriend, Jens,” Lucas admitted. 

“And,” Moyo spoke up, from beside Robbe. “It’s his birthday party that we’re trying to plan for.” 

Sander smiled, starting to move to question about ideas, when Britt cut through the conversation. He had almost forgotten that she was even there, “Robbe, Lucas. This is my boyfriend, Sander.” Whatever nervous excitement that had been bubbling in his stomach had been replaced by burning, consuming rage. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Robbe glance towards him, a nervous look on his face. “Sander, this is-”

“Let me guess, Robbe, Lucas,” Sander spoke, his voice harsh and cold. He could tell that Robbe was giving him a worried look. Moyo didn’t look surprised and Noor bit down on her lip, ducking her head down as if she knew that the night was always going to end up like this. Sander did too. It’s why he didn’t want to come and now, he had to do this in front of Robbe, the last person he wanted to see him like this. “I’m not your boyfriend, Britt, so quit trying to introduce me as such. I told you that last week and so many times in the last month since I broke up with you. I’ve told you that every time you called. I only came tonight to see Noor, who I’ve known longer than I’ve known you. I’m not your boyfriend.” 

Sander brushed by Robbe, his cologne briefly knocking him off balance, and hugged Noor, who wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“It’s okay,” Noor whispered. “Text me when you’re home?”

He nodded, kissing her cheek. Snatching his leather jacket from the back of his chair, he moved to leave, his eyes connecting with Robbe’s eyes again as he passed. Sander tried to will Robbe to understand his silent apology. He sent a brief smile to the girls that he had left as he passed. He could hear Britt following after him, fuming with rage, and heard her shout of “Act fucking normal!” as he pulled his helmet on, starting his bike with a fury, and sped back to his apartment. 

* * *

_I’m sorry about my outburst at the bar._

_I wanted to make a good first impression._

Sander waited nervously for Robbe’s response. 

He didn’t mean to let Robbe see him angry, especially at Britt, of all people. He never tried to let his anger to get the better of him. His anger always made him want to punch something, never someone, and usually, that ended up with him having bleeding knuckles and a hole in the wall. His anger, boiling hot and raging within him, reminded him of his father, of what his father did when he was angry. The first time he had seen himself angry in the mirror, he saw a passive reflection of his father’s own anger and Sander bleached his hair two days later. 

He looked too much like his father. 

And, it frightened him when he got too angry. 

Britt had said he was her boyfriend in front of _Robbe._

His phone buzzed in his hands, preventing his spiral further. 

_It’s okay. I already had a good first impression of you._

Sander smiled, weakly. 

_Well, in person… it’s different._

_How so?_

_Just is._

Sander let out a heavy sigh, running his hands through his hair. There was a pile of commissions that he needed to finish his artist’s desk, so many boxes that he needed to get unpacked in the other rooms of his apartment, but his body was restless, trying to figure out which one needed to get done first. He tried to force his mind to pause, to figure out which one to do first, to finish _one_ rough sketch done, to unpack _one_ box, but his body twitched and ached, unable to decide what thing that he needed to do to get work done, to stop his body from being so restless. 

Sander let out a breath, running his hand through his hair.

Breathing in and exhaling in unison with his breath, he repeated in his head, like a mantra that he had to remind himself every night, _I’m not my father, I’m not like him, I’m not him_ , until his breathing settled down and his shoulders relaxed and he believed it once again. He thought about calling Camille, but she didn’t need to deal with Sander’s insecurities right now. Not when she’s away on a vacation that she had been looking forward to for so long. And, his mother didn’t need to be reminded of it all either. 

Sander didn’t want to let Robbe think that he was like that, like _him_ , all the time. He needed a second chance to make a good first impression, in person, show him who Sander really was, outside of all the anger and the Britt and how she always managed to make him feel like a volcano on the verge of an eruption. He knew what he needed to do, what he _wanted_ to do. Grabbing his phone, his messages already opened to Robbe’s number, he typed out his message and hit send before he could talk himself out of it. 

_So… I know that we just saw each other._

_But, did you want to go out tonight?_

Sander’s heart thumped wildly in his chest, hastily adding. 

_Unless you have more plans?_

_What do you have in mind?_

_Meet me here ;)_

Sander’s heart thumped nervously in his ribcage, typing out his address and sending the message to Robbe without hesitation. Where his body had once brimmed with nervousness and self-loathing had been replaced with giddiness and warmth. Robbe was going to meet him at his apartment, send the evening with him, and Sander knew exactly where to take him. 

They could bike there. 

Sander would normally take his motorcycle, take Robbe on a thrilling ride through the city. But, Sander knew that he would be done for with Robbe’s arms around his waist, his chest flat against his back. Plus, if he wanted to take him _there_ , the loud purr of his motorcycle would be a dead giveaway to the sleeping guard. It was a good thing that he decided to bring his bike from his house.

_Okay, I’m on my way._

_Should be about 15 minutes?_

_What are we doing?_

_You’ll see._

_See you soon, beautiful._

* * *

Sander learned a lot about Robbe that night. 

He learned that Robbe had a bit of a fascination with whiskey and had followed Sander long enough to parrot his “zero stars on booking.com” which swelled his heart more than Sander would ever admit to anyone for the rest of his entire life. He learned that he might’ve been a little too trusting of Sander, considering that they had only started texting that afternoon, and blindly followed him to a pool where he broke into. He learned that Robbe seemed to have excellent, hand-eye coordination when it came from slamming a can into a trashcan, but _not_ when it came to giving him a high-five, his fingers curling around Sander’s fingers. 

He learned that Robbe’s hand was warm and small in his own, his palm fitting against Sander’s own ever so smoothly, their fingers interlocking together easily, naturally, like they had always belonged together. He learned that Robbe gripped his hand a little tighter in the darkness, but followed him blindly into the darkness of an abandoned pool. He learned that Robbe was unashamed in checking him out as he stripped from his clothes, that a single look from Robbe made his heart burst more than it ever did with Britt, that Robbe had always seemed up for a challenge if he was daring enough, staring him in the eyes as he undid the buckle of his belt. 

He learned what Robbe looked like with his hair stuck to his forehead, what Robbe looked like beneath all the layers that he covered himself with, what Robbe’s face looked like when he was nervous. He learned that Robbe couldn’t turn down a bet and that he couldn’t swim to save his life. He learned that Robbe looked as breathtaking above the water as he did beneath it, his eyes closed and his hair flowing around him. He learned that touching Robbe made his skin light aflame and kissing him was something else akin to an out-of-body experience. 

When their lips _finally_ slotted together, both when Sander reached out to kiss him and then again when Robbe pulled him back after pushing him away, he knew that he had been _right_ . Their lips were meant to be together, his soul had been right in that warehouse, _he is the one._ Him. Everything. Robbe’s hands burned on Sander’s skin, his lips made him feel like he was starving.

Their kisses in the pool were hungry, teetering on the edge of being something _more_ , never able to be satisfied until they got even closer, impossibly closer, buried beneath the skin of the other. It didn’t matter that they were in a cold pool on a semi-bearable evening in December. Their kisses continued to grow more and more heated, continuously spinning into a deep wave of need and want and _lust_ that Sander wasn’t for sure if they would ever get out of that pool, separate from each other. So, maybe, just this once, it was a good thing that the guard interrupted them, forcing them to flee the pool, half-dressed, half-laughing until they stumbled into an alley to finish getting dressed the rest of the way. 

Out of the pool, in the alleyway, Sander had wanted nothing more to continue _right there_ , kissing the living breath out of Robbe. But, there was a desperate look on Robbe’s face. As much as Sander wanted it too, as much as Sander _craved_ his lips pressed against Robbe’s again, as much as he _needed_ his kiss, the artist couldn’t help himself, hovering just before their lips would meet completely and making him beg for it. But, Sander was so starved that he launched at him the moment the words had slipped past his lips. 

That’s when he learned that Robbe loved holding him by the lapels of his leather jacket, trying to pull him closer against him. He learned the way that Robbe let out little whines when Sander kissed his neck like he wasn’t fully aware that he was even doing such a thing. Now that they had all of their clothes on, in this alleyway, their kisses had become more charged and burning with fire, and Sander found himself increasingly aware that his jeans were strained, that Robbe’s breath was getting shallow, and the only thing that Sander can think of is getting his clothes _back off._

“Come home with me,” Sander purred. 

Robbe sighed. “I don’t think I can,” Robbe admitted, gripping his jacket tighter. Sander let out a sigh, pressing a featherlight kiss to his lips. It wasn’t a rejection, not forever, just right now. Sander might’ve only known his face and his expressions for a couple of hours, but he could hear that Robbe was just as desperate and upset as he was. “I have a midterm tomorrow. But, I want to… I’m sorry.” 

Robbe sounded about as desperate as Sander felt, feeling it in his toes, through his fingertips, down his body like a continuous wave. 

“It’s okay. School’s important.” Sander pressed a kiss to his lips, dragging a flurry of kisses down his jawline and pressing a kiss against his ear. Robbe groaned, his chest vibrating against Sander’s palm, his body sinking against Sander’s, his leg still hooked over Sander’s thigh. “Good look,” Sander whispered, pressing his lips back against his ear, hesitating before dragging his tongue over the outline of his ear, his tongue tasting the metallic of Robbe’s single earring. 

“I just want you to know that you’re making it extremely difficult to want to be a good student.”

Sander had chuckled, pulling back and cradling the boy’s face in his hands. It was breathtaking, having this boy so close, so here, so obvious with want for Sander. He didn’t think it was possible, not with the way that Britt always seemed to look at him. She never looked like this. Sander traced a pattern that connected all the freckles of Robbe’s cheekbone and whispered, “Do you want to come over after your classes tomorrow?”

“To your flat?” 

Nerves bubbled in his stomach, “Yes.” 

Robbe grinned, his hand on the side of Sander’s jaw, pooling a heat of fire where his hand was connected, and he nodded his head, enthusiastically reaching up to meet Sander’s kiss. 

Even as they forced themselves to separate, their kisses turning chaste and briefer, their grins turning brighter and blinding, Sander felt a lightness in his chest, something gravitating him to Robbe and his doe-eyes and the freckles on his nose. Once they had finally managed to separate, unhooking Robbe’s leg from Sander’s waist, the patch of his skin turning icy cold again, and his jacket feeling a little different now that Robbe wasn’t clinging desperately to it, the two of them climbed on their bikes and made the treck to Robbe’s apartment. 

But, before he left him entirely, Sander couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around him and kissing him a little tighter, a little longer, and Robbe whimpered in his arms, his hand back on the lapels of Sander’s jacket, the other pulling tightly at Sander’s t-shirt, tugging him beneath the large tree outside of his apartment complex, obscured by shadows. Sander swayed on the axis that Robbe defined, his lips pressed against his, his tongue slipping into his mouth, bringing him impossibly tighter against him. One kiss turned into another and another and _another_ until they were so close that there was no hiding how they felt. 

“Robbe,” Sander whispered. 

“Hmm?” Robbe whimpered, yanking him closer and dragging their mouths together, open-mouthed and _filthy_ , shooting through his body like a shockwave, and he’s certain that Robbe gripped his jacket a little tighter, angling their hips further against one another, creating friction that they _both_ seemed to be craving. 

“You have a midterm tomorrow,” Sander whispered. Robbe let out a heavy sigh, nodding his head and pressing their foreheads together. “Besides, I need to get back to my apartment to take a shower before my hair starts to turn a little green.” 

“You can always shower with me,” Robbe whispered. 

“I could,” Sander admitted, pressing a kiss to his lips. When he pulled away, Robbe let out a deep whine and attempted to pull him back closer. “But, you have a midterm tomorrow.” Another kiss and Sander held on a bit longer to Robbe’s lips, opening their mouths and slipping his tongue past his lips. Robbe sighed, his tongue meeting his. Sander gripped tighter to his hair and _that_ earns him a loud moan that caused their kiss to break and Sander’s grin to grow impossibly wide. “You need to get to your apartment.”

“I know.” 

His hands tugged Sander closer.

“One more kiss.” 

It was five, but Sander relished every single kiss that Robbe was willing to give him.


	2. The Boy He Missed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, damn, that was one hell of a night, huh? I'm so glad that I managed to get this chapter done because I have to study alllllll weekend long for my test on Tuesday (and work on my project that is due Thursday). 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and I hope to see you next time!
> 
> Note: Ignore any remaining spelling or grammatical errors. I am far too tired to catch them all of them, so I will likely be editing in the morning and will catch them once I wake up.

Robbe _. _

It was the only thing that Sander could think of as he sat at his desk. He had finally managed to get his art room completely how he had wanted it. After he had managed to unpack the remains of his clothes that had been abandoned the night before by Britt’s insistent calling and (later) a flight to, and from, a pool, Sander had settled down to work on the gift for Arthur (he  _ finally  _ had all the signs for it, not that he blamed Noée, she was a busy woman) and now he could get down to work on how to start it out. Or, at the  _ very  _ least, something in his stack of commissions.

But, as he sat with a blank sheet of paper in front of him, his mind was dry of any inspiration or ideas on what to do. He couldn’t even picture any of it at all, even with the photos of the signs on his phone, sent to him through Eliott.

Because all he could think of was Robbe. 

He was all-consuming like a wildfire that had encompassed Sander’s entire brain. His fingers itched to hold him again, to send out a message telling him to hurry up, because he just wanted to be there to  _ hold  _ him in his arms, kiss him senseless. But, Sander knew that Robbe was in his test (Sander had sent him a good luck text before, free of any flirtatious teasing in an effort to not distract him) and he felt like his brain might explode from being completely, irrevocably consumed with Robbe. 

What was it his high school art teacher used to say?

_ Don’t hold it in. Just let it all out. Then, you’ll be able to focus.  _

Sander picked up his pencil and drew. 

He drew what he wanted, what he needed, the curve of the face forming within a matter of minutes, barely visible on the white paper. It was so easy to draw it, Sander realized, his phone turned down, the memory of Robbe engrained in his mind. The photo from the warehouse, him beneath the waves, on the edge of the pool, in the alley, outside his house, all of it came flooding into Sander’s mind, coursing through his fingertips as he drew. He drew until his hand was cramped and there was a rough sketch on the page. 

Robbe amidst a heart-shaped hole in a wall, the middle of an explosion that was waiting to happen, in his mind, in his heart.

His mind buzzed with recognition, at Robbe’s texts from earlier. 

_ Chernobyl. _

As if summoned by the power of Sander’s thoughts, his phone buzzed against the surface of his desk, causing him to jump in his seat, and he flipped over to the phone to see who had sent him the text message, relishing in the way that his chest glowed. Robbe. 

_I’m downstairs, outside the gate. Come let me in. Please_ 🥺

Without even realizing an hour and a half had passed and now Robbe was here. Sander’s heart thumped expectantly in his chest as he leaped up from his chair, sending him a text to let him know that he was on his way down. Picking up the sketch of Robbe in Chernobyl, he filed it in his blue folder, the one that he kept all of his personal sketches, before moving out of the art room, grabbing his keys, and headed outside. 

The elevator ride down was too slow, but it was worth it to see Robbe there, waiting patiently at the iron gate, shifting from one foot to the other, his thumbs idly playing with his phone. Sander bit down on his lip as he approached, trying to stop the need to throw himself at Robbe. He was dressed in a brown jacket with a hoodie and t-shirt beneath it, all seemingly engulfing his figure, and a pair of jeans that did the same. Today, he wasn’t wearing a beanie which might’ve been a good thing because Sander wouldn’t have been able to hold back. 

He needed to be cautious because he didn’t know if  _ she  _ was around… and the last thing Sander wanted was for Robbe to get hurt for being with him. 

Once Sander opened the gate, Robbe looked up and beamed at him, brilliantly, infectiously, captivatingly, “Hey!” 

“Hey,” Sander spoke, grinning. He extended his hand and Robbe took it, their hands fitting together easily. Sander tugged him inside the courtyard, closing the door before leading him into the apartment building. He could tell that there was a silent question in Robbe’s grip, following him into the apartment and across the lobby to the elevator. Sander ran the pad of his thumb across Robbe’s knuckles, relishing in the feeling of his hand in his, and tugged him into the elevator after everyone who was inside spilled into the lobby. 

Once the doors were closed and they were alone with the number 6 lit up, Sander couldn’t hold himself back any longer, turning towards Robbe, grabbing him by the chin and angling his face up so their lips could slot together, easily and efficiently. Robbe let out a noise of surprise, still clinging to his hand, but the other reached up, clinging to Sander’s bicep, pulling him closer against him, making the kiss deeper. Sander ran his fingers through Robbe’s hair, feeling the gentle pull of the elevator lifting them upward. Once the elevator began to slow, Sander pulled away, resting his hand against Robbe’s chest.

Robbe  _ whined. _

“I know, I know,” Sander replied, probably sounding as desperate as Robbe felt. “But, this is our stop.”

Robbe sighed, a grin forming on his features as he looked up at Sander with half-lidded eyes. The elevator stopped, the doors opening, and he gestured towards the door. “Alright. Lead the way.” Sander grinned, pulling Robbe along as he fished his keys from his pocket. Robbe waited patiently as Sander slotted his key into the lock of his apartment, opening the door, stepping inside, and tugging him after him. The living room was still covered in moving boxes, on his couch and coffee table, and Robbe sent him a grin. “I thought you were talking about unpacking.” 

“I got all my clothes unpacked, but I decided to move onto commissions.”

“Oh? How did that go?”

“Not good, I didn’t get any work done,” Sander admitted. Robbe smiled, understanding on his features as he toed off his shoes by the front door, next to Sander’s Docs and the shoes he had just taken off, dropping his backpack beside them and then draping his jacket over it. Sander needed to get the hook from his old apartment back up, and the small table that he used to place his keys, so that way Robbe had a place to put his stuff when he came over. 

_ When he came over… _

Sander grinned and Robbe turned. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Sander remarked, stepping closer to him. Robbe’s eyes flickered down to his lips, his eyes blatantly honest in his  _ want  _ for the bleach-blond, and Sander relished in the thought of having that much of an effect on him. But, then Sander’s eyes caught sight of the flash of gold and he turned Robbe’s head to stare at the single stud in his ear. “Huh… I knew I didn’t imagine that metallic taste.”

Robbe chuckled, shaking his head and wrangling free of his grip. “What did you think that you made it up?” 

“We did have a couple of beers and other assortments of alcohol in our system, did we not?”

Robbe let out a sigh. “True.” He swallowed, stepping towards him. “Is there anything else that you think that you might’ve imagined?”

“Wait, there's one more thing…”

Robbe raised his head, tilting his head up, trying to get them to kiss again, to bring their lips together slow and agonizing like in the elevator, and Sander could feel himself _vibrating_ with want and need to have Robbe, as much of Robbe as the brunet was willing to give him and relish every piece of him that was offered. But, he also couldn’t help the teasing bone in his body, the one that wanted to see Robbe’s exasperated face and _I can’t believe you_ in his expression that seemed to stick with Sander all last night. 

And, so, Sander grabbed Robbe by the shoulders, twisting him around and pushing him towards the kitchen with a quick movement. Without even seeing his eyes, he  _ knew  _ that Robbe’s eyes were rolling back in his skull with his weight shifting against Sander’s hands. “Ah, you wanted the grand tour! Here, I’ll show you around.” 

And, to his credit, Robbe was a trooper. 

He let Sander lightly manhandle him around the apartment taking everything in as Sander tugged him from room-to-room, showing him rooms that were mostly covered in boxes and few items of personal value. When Sander showed him the art room, Robbe stepped inside, his eyes flickering all over the room, taking it all in. The walls of the room were covered with photographs and paintings that he had done over the years, some he had posted online, others that he kept to himself, and Robbe’s eyes darted over the room, taking it all in. 

His eyes lingered on the window, where thick black curtains hung. 

“It can double as a darkroom,” Sander spoke, stepping closer to him. Without thinking, other than the fact that he  _ wanted  _ to, Sander reached up, running a hand through Robbe’s hair, the brown strands flitting between his fingers. He grinned brightly when he spotted Robbe’s eyes fluttering closed, his head tilting back into the palm of his hand. “The one at my other apartment was a little bigger. But, it’ll do just fine.”

Sander dropped his hand to his shoulder, pulling Robbe back against his chest and catching him when they collided together. The brunet let out a surprised breath, half a laugh, as Sander wound his arm around his shoulders, holding him against his chest and guiding him out of the art room, towards the final room in the apartment, and the only one that had been somewhat started in terms of clean up.

Robbe chuckled. “Ah, I see. This was all a ploy to get me in the bedroom.”

“Yes,” Sander whispered, his lips brushing against the folds of Robbe’s ear. He heard Robbe let out a soft noise and gulped, his hand reaching up to place over the hand on his chest. Sander twisted his hand, so their fingers intertwined together, gripping tightly to Robbe’s hand. “As long as I have the bed up, I’m able to sleep and not have to sleep beneath my desk again.” He nipped at Robbe’s ear before pulling back, moving from the bed. Robbe let out a sigh. Sander grinned, moving towards the box that contained his movies. “So, what do you want to do? Watch a movie? I’ve got a little bit of everything and a Netflix account.”

Sander sat on the bed as Robbe let out a groan. Sander glanced up at him as Robbe rocked from one foot to the other. “You’re such a tease.”

The resulting grin covered Sander’s face completely. “If you think that I’m teasing, that means you’re definitely expecting more.”

Robbe rolled his eyes again, obviously as he crossed his arms across his chest, stepping closer to the bed where Sander was sitting. 

As soon as he was close enough, Sander reached out, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him closer. Sander had only intended for Robbe to stand between his legs to look up at him, but Robbe wasn’t having it. He stepped onto the bed, straddling his waist and briefly towering over him. Sander watched him, tilting towards him because he couldn’t help it, his hands settling down on the younger man’s thighs. Robbe settled down on his lap, Sander’s mind swirling briefly with the possibilities. One of his hands dropped to Sander’s hip and the other rested on the nape of his neck.

“And, if I was?” Robbe spoke, a silent challenge. 

Sander grinned up at him. He couldn’t believe that this man existed. Even sitting on Sander’s lap, the swirling lust present in his eyes, Robbe still somehow managed to look so  _ innocent. _ It was completely unfair for such a man to exist, so irresistible, and Sander couldn’t hold back anymore, as much as he wanted to continue teasing him. 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, almost involuntarily, Robbe’s eyes followed it with a heavy stare, and he leaned up to press his lips against Robbe’s which the latter responded to immediately. His fingers dug into the strand of Sander’s hair and he leaned over him, pushing him lightly on his shoulder to get him to fall back. Sander brought him closer, slipping his tongue along Robbe’s bottom lip to get his mouth open, and Robbe’s mouth fell open eagerly, his fingers digging further, harder into Sander’s hair. 

And, Sander wanted  _ more _ . 

But, even though they had been dancing around it all day in their texts, even though they had been on the verge of crossing every physical barrier that they could think of, he didn’t want a strictly physical relationship with Robbe, and he didn’t think that Robbe did either, he wanted to know this man, wanted to know more about him than  _ just  _ the way he kissed, the way that his body responded when Sander tugged on his hair. He wanted to know  _ everything  _ about Robbe that he possibly could and they couldn’t do that if they were all wrapped up like this. 

Sander pushed up on Robbe’s chest lightly, just enough to separate their lips, and Robbe whined,  _ again _ , and the grin on Sander’s face couldn’t be smothered. “Be patient,” Sander whispered, reaching up to press a featherlight kiss against his lips. Robbe tried to deepen it, probably not realizing he had done it, and Sander lifted Robbe off of him. The boy groaned, spread his legs out over Sander’s lap as the latter sat up, and the artist dragged over the box of movies. “Come on, let’s find a movie.”

Robbe pouted, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Sander’s shoulders, leaning his cheek against his shoulder and let out a sigh, “ _ Fine _ .” 

* * *

Sander had gone through far. 

Without thinking, his brain had spun down a fantastically dark set of thoughts that he would never say aloud to anyone other than his therapist. It had swirled in his head, down his body, and out his mouth before he could stop it all. And, once he started, he couldn’t stop, spiraling and spiraling until he was finally grounded again, Robbe’s hands running through his hair, over his cheekbones, a gentle “Hey” to remind him that he was here, that he was  _ there _ . 

If it had been Britt, she would chastise him for thinking something so dark, something so  _ abnormal _ , and make him feel like he should never have said anything, no matter how consuming it might’ve been. 

But, Robbe wasn’t Britt. 

He didn’t say anything about it being abnormal or different or  _ anything _ . He didn’t say anything that made Sander think that he was about to run for the hills, terrified of what was beneath Sander’s skin, swirling around in his head like a tornado, the destructive kind that leveled city blocks, wrecking everything in its path. In fact, Robbe had stayed beside him, ran his hands through his hair, didn’t say anything about it being  _ odd _ , and listened to it all. 

At that moment, Robbe had aged a few years in a couple of seconds from the serious look that was plastered across his face, staring at him and whispering, “That’s dark,” and Sander wanted nothing more to forget that he had ever said anything, kiss Robbe until he smiled, carefree and happy, as he had been before. 

But, he knew that he couldn’t. “Never thought about it before?” Robbe reached out to hold his hand as he shook his head. Sander twisted his hand around, so their fingers sipped between the others easily, fluidly. The thought of Robbe being here,  _ staying  _ here, made him smile, but there’s a knowing look in Robbe’s eyes, a worried look, and he couldn’t help his need to deflect his worry. “I sometimes forget how young you are.” 

Robbe chuckled, offended, or only pretending to be offended, and leaned forward, pressing his lips tightly against Sander’s. His kiss was strong and all-consuming, and Sander could only be amazed how Robbe could simply pluck every single nerve in his entire body like a guitar with a simple kiss, his lips pressed tightly against his own, his hands on either side of his face. It’s only once the kiss is gone, once the touch of his lips had disappeared from Sander’s own, that Sander realized that Robbe had shifted, so their faces were resting the same way and that Robbe moved to straddle him. 

Sander watched him, the playful but knowing glint in Robbe’s eye as he ran his hands the length of Sander’s chest, across the David Bowie shirt that he had thrown on that morning, and back up again, his fingers tickling the skin above his collar. “Woah,” Sander started, knowing full well the answer as he settled his hands again Robbe’s hips. “What are you planning?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Robbe replied, playful and teasing. He purposely settled his hips against Sander’s own, ripping a groan from the base of his chest that was only muffled by Robbe’s lips as he kissed him again, a knowing and teasing look present in his eyes. Robbe’s kisses were forceful and Sander knew what he wanted, what  _ Sander  _ had wanted since he saw Robbe, earlier, last night in the bar, outside his apartment, stripping down at the edge of the pool.

And, Sander was tired of pretending that he didn’t feel this all-consuming wildfire of need and want. 

“Robbe,” the blond whispered, moving to sit up.

Robbe pulled back, a puzzled expression on his face as he followed. Then, Sander cupped the back of his head and pushed him back, crawling over his chest so Sander was hovering over him. There was a dazed look in Robbe’s eye, a knowing gleam, and Sander grinned down at him, leaning down to press their lips together again. Robbe arched against him, one of Sander’s knees slotted between his thighs and Robbe’s arms around Sander’s chest, kissing him with dizzying intent, and Sander pressed further against him, making the distance between their chests nonexistent.

Sander had wanted to sit down, watch a movie with Robbe, learn everything that he could about him, but now that they were like this chest-to-chest, with never-ending kisses and exploring hands and everything that could possibly make his head spin further, Sander realized that he didn’t want to stop. He wanted Robbe impossibly closer, as much as Robbe wanted to go, and he realized, almost with a start, that he doesn’t think he could stop, not with Robbe this close, his kisses so heated and needy and  _ loving  _ that Sander only wants to pull him closer, and closer, and  _ closer _ until everything else is forgotten around them. 

One kiss moved into the kiss after, flowing together so smoothly that it made Sander want more, want it all. He pressed harder against Robbe, slipping his tongue across his bottom lip and into his mouth once it opened for him. His hand was buried deep in Robbe’s hair, the other hand trailing on the hem of Robbe’s t-shirt, his hoodie long abandoned on the floor around the bed at the beginning of the movie. Robbe shifted, his shirt shifting upward just enough, and Sander trailed his finger along the exposed skin. Between their kiss, Robbe inhaled sharply and Sander slipped his beneath the fabric of his shirt. He could feel the muscles of Robbe’s chest contracting, moving against his palm, as he lightly traced along the outline of his abs. 

Wanting the fabric  _ off _ , Sander tugged Robbe’s shirt up his body, sliding it across his chest until it bunched up beneath the pits of his arms. The blond pulled away, only as much as he had to get the blasted shirt off, and Robbe raised his arms, allowing the fabric to slip over his arms and off his hands. Sander felt his eyes lingering on the defined muscles of Robbe’s arms and chest, before he couldn’t deal with the fact that they weren’t kissing and  _ launched  _ against his lips, heavier and needier than it had been before. 

Robbe’s hands dropped to his lower back, fisting at the fabric of the David Bowie shirt before dragging it up his body, one hand pulling at the fabric and the other running his hand against the skin of his back that was being exposed. His hand dragged up lazily, tracing circles across Sander’s back, but his skin light up beneath Robbe’s fingers, burning like an inferno buried deep in the woods. Once the fabric got to his shoulders, Sander pulled back, having to sit up to get his shirt fully off his shoulders. 

As the David Bowie shirt slipped past Sander’s wrist, he felt Robbe’s hand on the flesh of skin above his tattoo. Turning his gaze back to Robbe, he was surprised to find his chocolate brown eyes staring at the wolf intently. He wondered if Robbe was going to ask what it meant, but his companion simply looked up at him in amazement, his eyes questioning, before his gaze returned to the wolf, his finger sliding along the inked skin with fascination. His fingers traced over the outline of the ears, the snout, and, he knows the second before it happens, the side of the face, where the black ink hid his scar.

He could see the furrow of his eyebrows, but Sander didn’t want to answer. Sander grabbed Robbe by the chin, forcing his face to look up and colliding their lips together again. 

Robbe’s hand flattened against the tattoo, his thumb barely grazing the scar, his forever reminder about his father. There was a part of him that wanted to avoid the topic of the scar, the topic of his father, because he didn’t want his father’s memory to screw up this, here and now. And, there’s a part of him that doesn’t want Robbe to know at all, to know what happened to him, to his mother, to Camille. It wasn’t his fault that his father was a bad man, but he doesn’t think that he could stand Robbe looking at him with pity. 

Robbe kissed him back, as eagerly as Sander was, his mouth opened before Sander could run his tongue across his bottom lip, slipping quickly into his mouth instead. His hand felt hot and heavy against his chest, against the tattoo, so Sander reached up, slipping his fingers in between Robbe’s before pinning it against the sheets. Robbe clung desperately to his hand and Sander squeezed his hand back, feeling Robbe sigh into the kiss. Sander pulled his lips from Robbe’s, dragging his lips down the curve of his jaw, heading towards his throat, listening to the little gasps that Robbe made, vibrating his throat. Robbe squeezed Sander’s waist with his thighs, trying to pull him back together, earning a light groan being muffled by the flesh of Robbe’s skin-

One of their phones, his, Sander realized, gave a shrill ring. 

_ Who was it now _ ?

He wanted to let it ring until it silenced itself, unable to detach from Robbe for even a second.

But, it could’ve been his mom or Camille… and he hasn’t heard from either one of them in a bit. 

Sander pulled away from Robbe’s lips, feeling the loss of his radiating warmth already. He let out a deep sigh, dropping his head against the pillow that Robbe claimed for his own, mumbling beneath his breath. Robbe seemed to be similarly frustrated, but the boy reached up, his free hand lightly cupping the back of Sander’s head, a featherlight kiss pressed against his temple. Sander leaned into the kiss, relishing in the touch of Robbe, there in his bed, before his phone let out a loud vibrate that he had a waiting text message. 

Sander moved out his arms, reaching for his phone at the edge of the bed. As Sander searched through the notifications that had been on his phone, games and other social media notifications that weren’t turned off and YouTube, he felt Robbe’s arm on his shoulder, pulling him. At first, he thought that it was him trying to pull him back, but then his legs appeared on either side of Sander’s, his arms around his chest, Robbe’s bare chest flush against his back, and a kiss being pressed against Sander’s exposed shoulder, pressing his cheek on the skin. 

Sander turned towards him, briefly, his heart warmed and expanded at the feeling of Robbe standing so close to him, before he turned back to his phone, his eyes catching sight of the one notification that would’ve made a noise, and he let out a frustrated sigh just  _ seeing  _ the id.

A text. 

From  _ Britt. _

_ <3 _

Sander knew that it was her way of reminding him that she was still around, a way to remind him that she would always be there should he need her. But, he didn’t. The angry text messages that were above it only seemed to prove that, but apparently not to her. Above the message of a single heart, there a strew of text messages, dealing with the aftermath of the bar, her angry at him for not following along and he pissed that she had tried to pass him off as her boyfriend. The messages had abruptly stopped at Sander’s end once he messaged Robbe, but that had only gotten angrier, sending him a bunch of angry, red-faced emojis in retaliation for him not answering.

He felt the emptiness in his stomach, the thought of pizza entering his mind and pushing Britt away quickly before he could get too angry over her text, and he turned towards Robbe to question his thoughts on ordering food, only to find the brunet avoiding his gaze and unlatching from around him. 

“I’m going to get some water,” Robbe mumbled, climbing off the other side of the bed. Sander watched him bend down, grabbing his shirt from where he had discarded it before leaving the room, still avoiding looking at him. Sander deflated, unsure of what he did to make Robbe so sad. 

Picking up his phone, he called the pizza place down the street that he had called a few times since he moved here. The owner recognized his voice, questioning him on his day before promising to bring it to him quickly. But, Sander couldn’t focus on idle chatter with the manager, his thoughts were focused on Robbe, and he must’ve known because the manager kept it short. 

Once the call had ended and the dial tone sounded, Sander tossed his phone onto his bed, grabbing his own shirt from the floor, slipping it over his body, and followed the sounds of Robbe, who was clanking around in the kitchen. 

* * *

Robbe was standing by the sink, his head ducked down, staring into the glass that he managed to have pulled from the cupboard. There were only a handful of glasses that Sander had pulled from boxes, barely touching the kitchen, only for the bare necessities like cups and plates and pans. Sander stepped around the breakfast counter into the kitchen which was adjacent to the front door. Robbe looked sad, confused and conflicted, his eyes trained on the glass. Sander wanted to step forward, wrap his arms around his shoulders, and press kisses into his neck until the stark look melted from his features. 

“Hey,” Sander spoke. The man remained quiet, his eyes on his glass, and Sander reached out, tilting Robbe’s chin up so his brown eyes connected with Sander’s green ones. “What’s wrong?”

_ What did I do? How can I fix it?  _ went unsaid. He wanted to fix it, wanted to make that look disappear from his face. 

Robbe swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Why does Britt think you’re still dating?” 

_ Oh.  _

Even as Sander breathed in relief,  _ he _ hadn’t caused that look, the answer was instantaneous. “Because she’s controlling and can’t come to terms with the fact that I don’t want her.” Sander made sure to keep his eyes on him, to let him know that he was telling the truth, that Robbe had nothing to fear with Britt, but the brunet’s face pulled downward, his frown deepening and his eyes blinking wildly. Sander reached out, taking the glass from Robbe’s hands and placing it in the sink, before taking Robbe’s face in his hands. His brown eyes refused to meet his again, looking towards where he set the glass down, but Sander continued on, knowing in his gut that Robbe needed to hear it, “She thinks that she’s the only one who can be there for me and that I’ll come crawling back to her when I need her, but I’m not going to.” 

Robbe swallowed, leaning forward blindly, pressing their foreheads together. Robbe’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling them together tightly or as much as he could with the fact that Sander’s hands were still cupping his face. His eyes were closed and his grip was secure on his shoulders. Sander fluttered his eyes closed, briefly, momentarily, relishing in the way that Robbe made him feel so… 

“Robbe,” he whispered, opening his eyes to stare fully at Robbe, the freckles on his cheeks, the curve of his lips, the long length of his eyelashes. “Look at me.” Robbe’s eyes fluttered open, his brown eyes looking up to meet Sander’s green eyes. Sander dragged his fingers across his cheekbone, tracing a pattern across his freckles, getting lost in the chocolate brown hue of his eyes. Sander leaned forward, pressing their lips together quickly, fleetingly, before pulling back to stare at Robbe. “Maybe there’s a universe out there where that Sander is with that Britt, but that isn’t this one. Britt is history, okay? We’re the future.” 

Robbe smiled. It rippled across his face, filtering out the confused, sad expression on his face before, and lighting up Robbe’s features tenfold. Sander grinned, wrapping his arms around him, pulling him closer as Robbe angled his face up to slot their lips together. Sander could practically feel the weight of Robbe’s lips against his own, but he paused, halting just out of reach. 

There’s a desperate look on Robbe’s face, his eyes flickering up to Sander and groaning, and the blond’s insides lit aflame, still amazed that he could have such a profound reaction on Robbe with just one  _ halting  _ kiss that was driving them both mad. But, there was a reason why Sander stopped. 

“Hold on a second,” Sander spoke, untangling from Robbe’s arms and rushing off to the art room. He found the blue folder where he left it. He fished out the unfinished sketch and stared at it briefly before he tucked the folder away and rushed back to Robbe, who was still standing where Sander had left him, taking a drink of water. “Put the drink down.” Robbe did as told, placing the cup on the counter, eyeing him curiously as he stepped around the counter. “Don’t freak out.”

Then, he reached out, handing the piece of paper, his  _ Chernobyl  _ sketch, to him like an offering. Robbe’s eyes flickered up at him, reaching out to take the sheet gingerly, carefully, before turning to look at it fully. Sander waited anxiously, waited for him to say that it was creepy or that he didn’t like it or thought that sketch itself was simply odd. But, a smile bloomed over Robbe’s face again, a soft smile that lit up his features, and his eyes flickered up to Sander, questioning, “Is this how you see me?” 

Sander let out a breath of relief that he didn’t realize he had been holding and he didn’t think Robbe noticed either. He nodded his head, wrapping his arms around Robbe’s shoulders, bringing him against his chest and pressing a kiss on the top of Robbe’s head. He leaned into his touch, relaxing against Sander, one arm wrapped loosely around his waist. 

“I got the idea this afternoon when you told me about Chernobyl. I was already drawing you so it ended up working out.” Robbe stayed quiet, the soft smile on his face as he stared down at the picture. The picture was simple on the page, but Sander had grander plans, intense colors and a massive workspace, a declaration.  _ This is how I see you _ . Hesitantly, he added, “And, it’s not finished quite yet, but imagine it on a big wall with all these intense colors.”

To his surprise, Robbe twisted in his arms, cradling his head and pressing his lips against Sander’s, giving him no move to back away, to deny him a kiss anymore. Robbe was smiling from ear-to-ear and it was difficult to kiss like that, but it made Sander smile too, bringing him against him tightly. Sander’s hands dropped down to Robbe’s waist, fisting in the fabric of his shirt. Robbe’s hands were on his shirt, greedily pulling him closer, and they tilted, Sander bracing himself against the counter with one hand, deepening their kiss as Robbe arched against his chest, the crinkle of the paper still in his fingers. 

If the sketch got messed up, it got messed up. 

Sander already had the drawing taken to memory. 

There was a three-rapped knock on the door, pulling both of them from their kiss. _ She couldn’t have found him already…  _ Sander felt the way his body involuntarily tense beneath Robbe’s hands. He sensed the brunet moving to question, but Sander covered his mouth with his hand, shaking his head,  _ pleading  _ not to speak. There was a confused look in Robbe’s eyes as Sander moved away from him, moving to the front door as Robbe’s hands dropped to his sides. 

His heart pounded quickly, anxiousness filling every muscle in his body. He did not want to find Estelle standing on the other side, poised on his doormat like an all-too-familiar reminder that he could never truly feel calm and secure, not since she broke into his apartment. 

Looking through the peephole of the front door, he spotted the orange hue of the pizza place’s uniform and let out a deep breath. He opened the door, greeting the delivery man easily as he fished out his wallet. Trading the cash for the pizza, and telling the delivery man to keep the change, Sander closed the door behind him, turning towards Robbe, who was still standing where Sander left him, a concerned look on his face. Sander locked the door. “I hope you like pepperoni,” the blond spoke, beaming as he placed a lingering kiss against Robbe’s lips. 

Once Sander pulled away, there was a concerned spark still present in his eyes, his hands pressing two warm spots against his chest. “Is everything okay?” Robbe questioned, his hands massaging gently at Sander’s shoulders. 

“Of course,” Sander replied, placing the pizza on an open spot on the counter and grabbing the drawing to put on the other side of the kitchen. He would put it away later. He had more important things to do right now. He placed his hands on Robbe’s waist, snaking them around to pull the smaller man against his chest, and Robbe let out a laugh, snuggling against him. “I’ve got a handsome man in my arms,” Sander tilted Robbe’s head up, pressing him against the counter, using his hips to lock him in place and prevent him from leaving, and there was a bright grin that shot across Robbe’s face because of it, “and, a large pepperoni pizza.”

Their next kiss was long, and needy, like the kiss on his bed before they had been so  _ rudely  _ interrupted by Britt and her heart. When Sander pulled back, Robbe let out a whine. 

“What more could I ask for?”

Robbe tilted his head up, accepting Sander’s next kiss and the deflection with ease. “You know,” Robbe started, pulling away, barely, but it feels larger than it actually is. Sander opened his eyes to look at him, looking up at him with those big brown doe eyes. “I’m always here when you want to talk.” 

Sander smiled, but it felt a little sad. He didn’t want to talk to Robbe about  _ this _ , about Estelle, not yet. He didn’t want to admit to Robbe that he would always be looking over his shoulder for a woman that had broken into his house and followed him around. He didn’t want Robbe to have to worry about things like that. 

So, he replied, “I know, Robbe,” because he did. Robbe would be there and Robbe would wait patiently for him to be ready. 

Then, Robbe stood on his toes, their lips slotting together, quickly getting lost in the lips of the other. 

* * *

The knock surprised him. 

Robbe had just left five minutes ago, saying that he had to go to bed early before his roommates woke him up early for their annual Saturday morning plans, skating in the park. While Sander had been more than happy to offer Robbe to spend the night in his bed, even if only to stay with him a couple more hours in complete bliss, wrapped up in each other’s arms like they had the majority of that Friday night, the brunet had declined, though he looked absolutely  _ upset  _ that he had to turn it down. 

“I want to,” Robbe had managed to get out before their lips were flat together, moving against one another, grins too big to kiss properly. “But, the boys…” Another kiss, more heated than the one before, less smiling and more tongue, and Robbe’s leg had shifted further up his thigh. He had reached up, pushing Sander away, but only to finish his sentence. “…have already been giving me shit for not being home so much.” Sander had laughed, accepting Robbe’s kiss as he pulling Sander back to his lips, drowning in the blissfulness of being with Robbe. 

“Which skatepark do you go to?”

“Why?” Robbe questioned, looking at him with squinted eyes. 

“No reason,” Sander promised. “Just curious is all.” It was a lie of course and Sander was fairly certain that Robbe knew it. Sander loved taking photographs of everything, but of Robbe especially, and he had no qualms for sneaking over to get some more while his muse wasn’t looking. The brunet had wrestled the camera away from him already, occupying his lips so he wouldn’t fight back as much. Sander had threatened him, lightly, if he broke his camera but Robbe had replied that he’ll pay for a new camera. 

And, sure enough, he had placed it gently on the bedside table before tackling Sander back against the bed, their legs slotting together, and their lips tangling together, lost in the sensation of one another. The two of them had spent the majority of the past two evenings with one another, but Sander doesn’t think that he’ll ever get tired of kissing Robbe, hopes that Robbe feels the same way about him. 

They had spent most of this evening watching  _ Romeo and Juliet  _ because Robbe  _ insisted _ and Sander couldn’t turn him down. Sander spent the majority of the movie slotted between Robbe’s legs, his sketchbook on his knees but he got nothing done, as Robbe was propped against the headboard playing with the strands of Sander’s hair. At the end of the movie, Sander had to admit that it wasn’t as bad as he thought. It was the closest thing that Sander counted as a proper date. Though, their flight to and from the pool will always be their first date, at least in Sander’s mind. 

Robbe had kissed him goodbye, promising that he could make it down to his bike safely and without Sander needing to go down with him. Sander had teased him for wanting to get rid of him and he was rewarded with another long kiss against his lips that made him grin further before Robbe slipped out of the apartment with flushed cheeks and a mischevious grin plastered on his features. 

So, hearing a knock had brought him out of his daze in the kitchen, a leftover slice of pizza in the microwave, a silent him in the room. Furrowing his eyebrows and checking his phone, Sander walked over to the front door, half-tempted to throw it open, expecting it to be Robbe. But, he checked through the peephole and his stomach dropped. 

_ Estelle _ . 

It was easy to recognize her, her features had long since been bored into Sander’s brain that he was certain that he could draw her if he had to, and she was standing on the other side of the door, looking up and down the hallway. Whatever bubble that had been present with Robbe here had popped rudely and Sander was finding it hard to breathe. The girl reached up, knocking again, but Sander found himself frozen on the other side of the door, watching her shift from side to side. 

Then, the girl moved, across the hallway and knocked on the door there. She repeated the motion before continuing on down the hall until she was out of sight. 

The microwave had long since gone off, but Sander stumbled against the wood panel of the door, reaching out to pull his phone from his pocket, finding his landlord’s number and sending him a text message because he was physically incapable of forming a coherent sentence with his mouth at the moment. 

_ There’s a girl going door-to-door knocking on doors. _ _  
_ _ She can’t know I’m here. Please? _

_ Is she the girl that you’re hiding from?  _ _  
_ _ I got complaints from residents on higher floors. But, I haven’t been able to locate her. _ _  
_ _ She’s on your floor now? _ _  
_ _ Don’t worry. I won’t tell her you’re here. _

_ Yeah. _ _  
_ _ How did she get in? _

_ I don’t know. Someone might’ve let her in as they were leaving. _ _  
_ _ Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye out for her and I’ll alert the morning manager. _

_ Okay. _

Sander slid to the floor, clutching his phone in his hands. 

He had been worried that something like this would happen. After the court had ruled that Estelle couldn’t get within a certain range of him, she had sent him a message, on a new Instagram account because he had blocked her old one, and the message was clear.  _ No one, _ especially the state, was going to keep them apart and he was starting to worry about the lengths that Estelle was willing to go, to have Sander in her grasp. He had moved apartments to get away from here. Except now, she managed to show up  _ at  _ his apartment complex and was going to door, knocking on doors to see who would open up. 

His phone buzzed and Sander glanced down at it. 

Robbe. 

_ I made it home safe and sound. Did you get something to eat? _

Sander felt his breath catch in his throat, his mind spinning like a whirlwind, a tornado that was blasting through every calming technique that he and his therapist had been working on. He dropped his phone in his lap, buried his face in his hands, pinching his eyes closed, as he inhaled a shaky breath. What would Estelle do if she found out about Robbe?

When Sander was in a relationship with Britt, his on-again, off-again, on-again whirlwind, she would always say that she was better than his girlfriend. Sander had always kept Britt a secret, especially once Estelle started coming into the picture, but his fans knew that he had a girlfriend. But, she had never been violent to his relationship with her before. But, that was before the court ruling, before the message that had rocked him to his core, and Sander did not know what lengths Estelle was willing to go to now. 

But, the words of her text following the ruling, a chill running down Sander’s spine.

_ No one will keep us apart.  _

Would she hurt Robbe?

* * *

The camera shook in his hands as he took a photo of Robbe, half poised on the edge of the ramp, half turned towards Lucas from the bar and a guy that he didn’t know. He had his beanie pulled down over his ears and he and his friends seemed oblivious to the platinum-haired artist hiding out beneath the darkest shadows of the tree with a camera in his hands (not like he hadn’t made  _ sure  _ that his identity was obscure when he left his apartment; sunglasses, black hoodie and jeans, a mask covering his mouth). His brown jacket swallowed his figure and he was grinning, laughing wildly at his friend with the black hair, the one that Sander hadn’t met yet, and Lucas wrapped his arms around him, pressing kisses against his cheek. 

Robbe looked so happy. 

So carefree.

And, as he watched the group of them, Moyo coming up to ruffle Robbe’s beanie and Robbe shoving him away before sliding down the pipe, easy and carefree, pulling off a move that made Sander fear he would fall and break his neck, Sander felt his stomach weigh down in his chest, gripping tightly to the camera in his hands. 

Robbe was happy and carefree. 

If he stayed with Sander…

If he stayed with Sander, Estelle could hurt him, physically, psychologically, both…

Sander’s stomach steeled in anger. Some of it was directed towards Estelle and the situation that had been festering in the back of his mind. But, most of the anger was directed towards himself, because he hadn’t been thinking. He had been foolish, to think that he could move apartments and suddenly Estelle would be gone from his life, but she had followed him. For a brief moment of time, Sander thought he had found a place, a person, where he didn’t  _ have  _ to worry about Estelle, about her lurking every time he left his apartment. And, now, he had put Robbe in harm’s way, in the path of Estelle’s wrath. 

As much as Sander wanted to be with him, as much as Sander  _ craved  _ it, there was one thing that he needed to do: protect Robbe. 

Even if it meant that he had to hurt him in the process.

And, tears sprung to his eyes as he thought about it, pushing himself to his feet and leaving the park behind him, unable to stand the sight of a happy, carefree Robbe right now, knowing that he was going to do the one thing that Sander never wanted to do in his life. 

Break Robbe’s heart.

* * *

It took him until Sunday afternoon to send the message, finally sending it with his eyes closed so he wouldn’t talk himself out of it, throwing his phone on the bed and collapsing in on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees. 

_ Hey Robbe, I’m sorry but things are moving too fast. I need to take a break. I’m sorry. Forgive me.  _

It took hours for Robbe to open the message, though Sander never found out the reason, because Robbe never replied back to him, which was fine because Sander didn’t want to see how badly he broke the heart of the person that matter so much to him so quickly. His addition to his story on Instagram,  _ I’m sorry _ , wasn’t half of what Sander was feeling. But, he hoped that Robbe would move on and be better off without him, find a guy that wouldn’t put him in harm’s way and treat him better than Sander had. He deserved it and Sander would be here, watching the person he was meant to be with, end up with someone else.

Sander heard his phone ding. 

_ Eliott. _

But Sander ignored it, turning over in his bed and trying to ignore the fact that his bed still smelled like Robbe. 

* * *

_ Val. _

_ It’ll be great! _ _  
_ _ We haven’t gotten to hang out in forever.  _ _  
_ _ And it’s our four-year graduation celebration!  _ _  
_ _ The rest of the boys are even going to be there! _ _  
_ _ It’s perfect! _

_ I’ll do my best, Val. But, I may go home early that night. _

_ Is everything okay? _

_ It’s alright. I’m not having an episode. _

_ I didn’t say that.  _ _  
_ _ I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there. _ _  
_ _ I want you to come if you want to come.  _ _  
_ _ You’re my oldest friend. And I’ve missed you. _

_ I’ve missed you too, Val. _ _  
_ _ Like I said… _ _  
_ _ I’ll do my best okay? _

_ Great :) _ _  
_ _ Sophie is excited to see you. _

_ Sophie? _ _  
_ _ Did you two finally get your heads out of your ass? _

_ Uh… _ _  
_ _ Maybe? ;) _

_ Ugh. _ _  
_ _ Finally. _ _  
_ _ Send me the address. _

_ Course. I think Sophie wanted to invite Amber too, that okay? _ _  
_ _ They haven’t gotten the chance to hang out lately. _

_ Yeah, that’s fine. _ _  
_ _ You just might have to save me. _

_ What did you do? _

_ Been avoiding her. _

_ Why? _

_ Sander? _

_ Tell me later? _

* * *

Sander cut off the engine of his motorcycle, climbing off with fluid ease. His bike was parked out of the view, close enough to the entrance but not completely in view. The bouncer noticed him and nodded his head, as if to tell him that it was okay. Sander sat his helmet on the seat and let out a heavy sigh, pulling out his phone to pull up his messages with Valentin. 

_ We’re here. Text us when you’re here and we’ll come to meet you. _ _  
_ _ Amber said that she would be here soon and that she was bringing some friends. _

Sander let out a sigh, typing out and sending an  _ I’m here _ . 

“Tough night?” a silky female voice spoke. Sander glanced up, finding a brunette walking up to him. The girl was beautiful with long brown cascading hair. She was dressed in a long-sleeve crop-top that fit her perfectly and high waisted jeans. Her face was covered in makeup that accented her beauty, furthered it, and if it had been Sander a few weeks ago, he might want to try something, see if anything could be between them. But, tonight? All he could think about was Robbe. 

Robbe. Who was probably…

“Yeah,” Sander admitted. 

“Bad break-up?” the girl questioned. 

Sander chuckled. “That obvious, huh?” 

“A little,” she replied, pouting out a dark red lip. “I’m going through something similar so I might just be a little better at spotting it all. I’m Laura, by the way.” She reached out a hand, her bright brown eyes flickering up at Sander. There’s a pang in his eye as he thought of Robbe. “Are you here by yourself?”

“Meeting some friends,” Sander replied, with a shrug of his shoulders. As he spoke, he heard the call of his name, long and drawn out, “Saaaaaander!” 

Sophie came barrelling out of the club, past the bouncer who eyed her with a grin on her face. Her grin was bright and contagious, her blonde hair pulled back in braids and she collided against his side, nearly knocking the both of them flat onto the concrete below. She took his face in her hands and kissed his cheek, once, twice, three times before she pulled back, shaking his shoulders. “Where have you been?! I’ve missed you so much!” 

Sophie looked like a model, long and slender and breath-taking, and in fact, she was one. In addition to being in ads, she also knew the teachers at the Academy, who would always ask her to model for the classes that focused highly on poses. She was self-conscious of being nude, so she was never one of their nude models, but she had met Sander when she was a model for his class. From the moment that Sophie had talked to them on their way out of class, Val had hopelessly fallen in love with her but was willing to stay friends if that was what she wanted. The fact that she was a model, beautifully breath-taking in every way, was probably the reason that Britt would scoff when he went to hang out with Valentin.

On the rare chances that Sander managed to hang out with them, often dragging Amber along, Sophie managed to latch onto Amber, almost always the only other girl in the group, becoming quick friends with her. 

“Soph,” Sander replied, glancing towards Laura, who was laughing. 

“What?” Sophie questioned, looking confused. “Come on, Val has been looking forward to this since you texted him the other day. Let’s go!” She took his hand that had his keys and proceeded to drag him away from his motorcycle. The girl pulled him past the bouncer, who greeted him with a curt nod and into the club. 

The music pumped loudly through the speakers, the kind of music that Sander had stopped listening too once he found David Bowie. The colors flickered back and forth to a bright florescent purple and back to a neon blue. Couples danced, kissing and holding onto one another tightly, bodies pressed together. It made Sander almost claustrophobic as Sophie pulled him through the crowd, guiding him with ease as though it had been days, not almost two years. 

Suddenly, someone collided into Sander and he moved to brace himself, the person he had run into, and Sophie, who was jostled briefly. 

“I’m sorry,” Sander spoke. Then, he caught sight of  _ who _ he ran into and grinned as a similar grin broke out on the man’s face as well, stopping in his pursuit of wherever he was going. The man was slightly shorter than Sander was, wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of denim jeans that fit him a little too well, and Sander couldn’t believe his luck. His former roommate. “Senne?” 

“Sander!” Senne beamed, throwing his arms around him in a hug. Sander unhooked his hand from Sophie’s grip to hold him back tightly. Senne’s grip tightened around him in response, patting him on the back, and Sander found himself gripping to Senne for just a moment tighter. “It’s been too long. We have to meet up sometime!” Senne rubbed his shoulder as he stepped back. 

“Definitely,” Sander agreed. Sophie returned to his side, glancing between the two of them with a fond expression on her perfect features. “Oh, this is Sophie. She’s Val’s uh… what are you guys exactly?”

“Girlfriend,” Sophie supplied. 

“She’s Val’s girlfriend,” Sander finished. 

Senne grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sophie? As in the Sophie that Val was absolutely crazy about?” Sophie blushed, ducking her head down and hiding her eyes, and Sander laughed, his chest lightening for the first time since he sent that text to Robbe. “What about you?” Senne questioned Sander. “How are you and Britt?”

Sophie glanced at Sander.

“We broke up about a month ago,” he stated, matter-of-factly. There was a brief pause before Sander added, directed to both of them, “Permanently.” 

“Really?” Senne questioned, looking positively thrilled. 

“Good,” Sophie spoke up. Both of them turned towards her and Sophie raised a perfect eyebrow as she glanced back at Sander with a  _ seriously? _ expression. “What? You deserve better than someone like her. I didn’t like the fact that she didn’t want you to hang out with Val because I was always there. Especially when the two of us didn’t have feelings for one another.” 

“Anyone new in your life?” Senne questioned. 

Sander paused, thinking of Robbe, of his kisses and his hands in his hair and of the pool where they tasted of chlorine and water, and felt his shoulders sag slightly, before replying, “No.” 

Senne clapped his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’ll find someone.” Sander smiled, trying to fake his way through it because there was no one that could ever be able to live up Robbe. But, he couldn’t stand it if Robbe had gotten hurt by Estelle because of the simple reason of being the guy he was with. “Now, I would love to talk to you more but I need to rescue someone from my fiancé’s grasp so I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“Fiancé?” Sander spoke up. But, Senne was already moving through the crowd, past the throng of bodies and moving after someone that Sander couldn’t see. Sander tried to stand on his toes, to see who he was following after, but Senne was already gone, disappeared into the crowd of people and out of sight. Sander settled back on his feet and let out a deep sigh.

_ Fiancé? _

How far from everyone’s lives was he really? First, he didn’t know about Val and Sophie  _ finally  _ giving it a shot and now it was Senne, his old roommate, who was getting married. And, Sander hadn’t even  _ known _ . He knew that he still followed both of them on Instagram, but aside from originally messaging Robbe, he hardly used the app aside from posting. Was his distance with his friends a by-product of his relationship with Britt and her controlling tendencies? Or, did Sander do some of the distance himself?

“Sander,” Sophie spoke up, pulling on his leather jacket. 

He wanted to close some of the distance with his friends, find some sort of new  _ normal _ in a world that was post-Britt… but, also post-Robbe. Swallowing the void in his stomach that tore open at the thought of Robbe, Sander turned towards Sophie. “So, where’s Val?” The girl grinned, grabbing his arm again and dragging him further past the crowd. 

“I found him!” Sophie announced to a group of guys as they approached. 

One of them had barely turned around to register them approaching, it was Val, he realized, and the grin had formed on his face long before the ash-blond man launched himself at Sander. His arms wrapped so tight around Sander that he might’ve cut off circulation albeit briefly. Val’s hair had gotten longer, the tips dyed with a brilliant shade of blue, and it was long enough to hit his shoulders, tied back at the base of his neck. 

“I missed you,” Val whispered, gripping his shoulders tightly. 

“I’ve missed you too,” he replied, gripping Val back just as tightly. 

Val beamed, stepping back, grinning at him. He leaned forward, shouting over the music, “So, what’s been going on with you, man?! We haven’t seen each other in ages!”

Valentin had been his closest friend since they were kids. They had done everything together, loved to do everything that they could. While both of them had a different taste in music, their love of art had solidified and united their friendship, building past their younger years. They were competitive with one another, both accepted to the Academy, and they only continued to challenge each other in college. But, they had drifted apart with Britt, a common theme as of late, and Sander wanted to change that. He missed his friend, he missed Sophie, he missed Noor, (he missed Robbe)… 

And, so, it was so easy to fall back into familiar patterns. 

Sander and Val wrapped in their own world, talking excitedly about what had been going on over the time that they had faded apart. Sophie stood between them, laughing at their jokes, intertwining her fingers with Val’s, stealing Sander’s leather jacket when she got cold, and eventually disappearing to buy them a round of drinks. Sander recognized some of the guys that Val was hanging out with, other artists from the Academy whose names he couldn’t remember, who jumped in the conversation as Sander regarded the tale of their cranky old teacher from high school that was particular to a fault about his homework assignments. 

Then, the crowd parted and Laura appeared between the boys, stepping towards Sander, blatantly eyeing his lips, and standing on her toes to pull him down in a kiss, cutting him off mid-sentence. He could hear the hoots and hollers of the guys, a joyous comment from Val, “Sander Driesen strikes again!” Her arms wound around Sander’s neck, pulling him towards the dance floor, and Sander responded by wrapping her arms around her waist, following her, just far enough gone to go with it all. 

Laura was a good kisser, moving surely and fluidly, and Sander wanted to want her so bad. 

But, she wasn’t Robbe, her hips weren’t his, and her lips weren’t his, and no matter how much he wanted to want her, all he could think about was the doe-eyed skater boy, whose heart he had broken over a text message, when he deserved so much more. He had thought,  _ hoped _ , that letting Laura kiss him, and kissing her back, might’ve made it a little easier to forget Robbe, to forget that he hurt him, that he pushed him away without a clue of what was going on. 

But, it didn’t.

It only made it worse, festering in his chest, cutting him open like an open wound, making it hard for him to breathe, and Laura must’ve sensed it because she pulled back, her dark lipstick smudged, “It’s okay. We’re both trying to forget someone, right?” And, when he nodded, she hesitantly stood on her toes and he leaned down to meet her, hoping to forget his pain, the pain that Sander had caused, for just a little bit. 

But, the universe had other plans.

So many things happened at once, the music dropped, the DJ switching from one song to the other, something slower and less paced than the one before, and the crowd grew quiet, in silent anticipation for the lyrics to the new song, rocking against one another. 

But, then, a shout pierced through the crowd, finding its way to Sander’s ears, one that caused goosebumps to form over his skin and filled him with a sense of dread and shame. 

“ROBBE!” 

Sander pulled away from Laura, feeling her confusion radiating off her in waves, and Sander’s eyes darted around the club, looking and looking and looking, for the origin of the shout, for  _ anything _ , and all his mind could do was pound against his skull,  _ no. _ As his eyes darted around, he found Noor in the crowd, dancing with Britt, hand-in-hand. He saw Lucas from the bar dancing with the black-haired man from the skatepark, hands on each other’s hips and twisting to look. The sight of Lucas made his blood turn cold. 

But, it’s not as bad as the moment he finds Amber, standing with Aaron and Moyo, all three of them looking and moving away, towards the front door. 

Val’s text flooded to his mind.  _ Amber was going to bring some friends.  _

Sander was so stupid.

_ How could he have forgotten that Aaron was Robbe’s roommate? _ It was a simple thing, of course, something that he only learned trying to find out Robbe’s goddamn name, but it seemed glaringly stupid for him to forget it right now. If Amber was bringing some friends, it was highly likely that Aaron was among them. And, what was it that Aaron had said? That his friends always loved to party. He should’ve known. He should, at least,  _ guessed. _

And, now, he had broken Robbe’s heart.

For the second time.

“What is it?” Laura questioned. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling away from her and moving towards the front door, to where everyone else had gone, trying to keep his voice steady, to keep the tears in his eyes. Laura was beautiful, but Sander found himself unable to look at her. She could easily find someone else to help her forget. Sander was already too screwed up anyways.  _ She was better off finding someone else.  _ “I’ve got to go.” 

He needed to get out of here.

* * *

“Hey,” Sander greeted, rubbing the remains of the dark lipstick off his lips.

Amber turned towards him, standing next to Noor, and she turned towards Sander, putting her hands on her waist. He had hoped to avoid Amber a little longer, not wanting to tell her that he had broken the heart of a boy that he cared a great deal about and how he was in pain. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t lie to her. She had always been able to see through even his well-crafted lies. 

Lucas greeted him with a curt half-nod. 

“Why are you avoiding me?” Amber questioned. 

Sander ignored the question that she had posed, shivering slightly at the cold January air and the absence of his leather jacket. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?” 

As she stared at him, Amber’s eyes squint, like she knows that Sander already has a strong suspicion of what is going on, but Noor was the one that replied to him, worry filling her tone as she stared off into the distance, “Something is going on with Robbe from the bar. He ran off suddenly and he’s been down the past couple of days.” 

The black-haired man beside Lucas stepped forward to the railing. “Did you find him?”

“No,” it was Senne, stepping from the shadows. Beside him, there was a platinum-haired woman, talking quietly with a tall brunet man beside her. He recognized the woman, vaguely, but it’s the ring on her finger that jars her image from the depth of Sander’s mind, buried down with all the other memories that made him too sad. Zoë. Senne’s girlfriend, no,  _ fiancé.  _ “Robbe is quick,” Senne continued, stepping around the railing with the two who were talking with one another. “I’ll give him that.” 

“We need to give him space,” Zoë whispered, typing a message on her phone. 

As Zoë put her phone in the pocket of her jeans, her eyes flickered over to him, catching onto him. It was an expression that only Sander would’ve managed to see, especially because he had been searching for it on the looks of Robbe’s friends, but he could pinpoint the guarded look in her eyes as she stared at him. There was a fierce protectiveness in her gaze as her eyes flickered over Sander’s face, down to his hand, where the remains of Laura’s dark lipstick stuck to the back of his hand. 

The silence between them as their gazes locked pounded, louder than the music in the club. 

Shame overwhelmed Sander’s body and he needed to get out of here, back to the safety and comfort of his apartment,  _ now _ . 

“I’m leaving. Can you tell Val that I’m not feeling good?” Sander questioned, directing his question towards Amber. 

“Huh?” Amber replied, turning towards him. “You’re leaving now?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it? Tell Sophie and Val that I’ll get my jacket sometime next week.”

“Sander!”

There was worry evident in her voice, dripping through every syllable, but Sander moved down the ramp, past a confused Senne that was glancing between everyone and a calculating Zoë, past a concern Lucas and Moyo and Noor. Sander moved to his bike, his arms already shivering, but he couldn’t step back into that club, not today, not now.

“Sander! You need a jacket at least! It’s far too cold out!” Amber tried to convince.

But, Sander ignored that too.

Back at his apartment, Sander couldn’t sleep (and he tried), he couldn’t unpack (and he tried that too), but his body was buzzing with shame and anxiousness and nervousness. But, his body itched, like a need that he couldn’t fully scratch, and he was tired of fighting it all. He plopped down at his sketching desk, depositing his notebook down on his workstation, and flipped over to the first blank page that he could find, ignoring the insistent buzz of his friends and his cousin texting him.

And, then he sketched.

And sketched. 

And  _ sketched. _

He sketched until his wrist was sort, only taking a break to lightly shake his hand before he jumped back into working again. He sketched until the darkness outside bled into the soft light of the morning, until his fingers were sore, until he couldn’t sketch anymore. Sander’s body was screaming at him to go to sleep, to lay down, close his eyes, and  _ sleep _ . But, the only thing that he could think of was Robbe, at the edge of his mind, broken, sad, alone. 

So, when his stomach growled, unable to take any more, he got on his feet, left his apartment, and went to the store down the street with his hood up and a scarf over his face. He collected everything that sounded good to his hungry stomach, managed to fit all of what he wanted into two plastic shopping bags, and headed back to the apartment. 

As the elevator to the lobby opened, Sander’s eyes getting increasingly heavy and making it difficult to stand up straight, someone slammed hard into his shoulder, managing to wake him up and almost knock him completely off balance. 

“Sorry,” the person whispered, sending a shiver down Sander’s spine, sounding as sad as Sander had felt all night. His neck cracked from how fast he turned around to stare after the man. 

Robbe. 

“Robbe,” Sander tried, calling after him. His voice cracked in his throat, every emotion that had been bottled up as he sketched threatening to come undone in his chest. Robbe didn’t turn around, but Sander wasn’t surprised. He could hear the pounding of Robbe’s music all the way from across the lobby. He couldn’t help the need to explain, tell him that Laura was simply a girl that kissed him and he went through the motions, tell him that why he did what he did, explain. “Robbe!” 

But, then, Robbe was pushing the door open and stepping outside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGST~!


	3. The Boy That Left an Empty Space in His Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA, I finished it. FINALLY. 
> 
> I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to complete, but with presentations and tests, my schoolwork has pretty much been kicking my ass and forcing me to be unable to write or push it back. Add that with my fucked up sleep schedule and it's only worse! But, it's okay because this chapter is finished so I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

His body was tired.

His mind was tired.

His hands were tired.

Sander was _exhausted._

His heart was screaming at him, two conflicting thoughts resounding through his body like the beat of a drum, not the good kind, but the loud and obnoxious kind. One of his thoughts was urging him to go to sleep. His entire body screamed in exhaustion, in being tired, having worked all night, trying to drown his sadness into the worn paper of his sketchbook, sketching the same face over and over again until his hand physically hurt. 

But, the second thought, the one that had been present, lingering in the background, was now a renewed melody in the front of his mind, now that Sander had slammed into him in the lobby of his apartment complex. Robbe. Robbe and his doe-eyes and his single earring and his dimples. Part of Sander wanted to go out and find Robbe and _explain_ , but he knew that Robbe was crushed, that Sander had been the one to do that, and…

Sander locked the door behind him, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. He tossed the bag with his cold groceries in the fridge and he placed the bag that needed to be sorted into cabinets on the kitchen counter and, somehow, he made it to the couch, collapsing down on the cushions, his body shutting down and forcing him into a restless sleep. 

Even as his body forced him into sleep, his mind kept waking him up, pulling him in and out of sleep. 

He remembered waking up to send Robbe a message, to see if he was okay, and he barely managed to hit send on the third and final message before he was slipping into his dreams again, dreaming of Robbe and his doe-eyes and his burgundy beanie and his infinite universes. He woke up to the sound of the front door opening, the image of Robbe slipping from his fingers, the voices of Amber and a man whispering to one another, but it wasn’t Estelle or a woman with brown hair so he turned around, going back to sleep. He woke up to pillows being put under his head, someone moving him so he could spread out, covering him with a blanket, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and he mumbled out _something_ before he was gone again, blinking in and out of sleep like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

When he woke up, for real this time, the loss of the Robbe in his dreams evident when he awoke, clutching his own leather jacket like a lifeline, the blanket on his shoulders weighed down on him and the soft light of the morning (or the evening?) was filtering through the crack in the curtains and Val was curled up in the armchair, his head resting against the back of the chair, his ash-blond hair spilling over his shoulders and sleeping peacefully. 

Sander sat up, panic filling his system. He shoved off the blanket and dropped his leather jacket on the bed and moved through the house. He searched the bedroom and the bathroom and the closets, _searching_ but never finding her, Estelle. Val found him, peering into the closet in his spare-bedroom-turned-art-studio and letting him know he was there, letting out a yawn. “Sorry man, I didn’t realize that you had woken up. I must’ve fallen asleep myself.” 

Sander swallowed. “How long was I out?”

Val checked his watch. “A day. I was coming to bring you your jacket and I realized I didn’t know where you lived so Amber let me in. When we saw that you were passed out, I knew that something was wrong. You don’t seem like yourself and I was worried about you.”

“You should’ve woken me up,” Sander mumbled. 

“No, I shouldn’t have. You didn’t look good at the party, Sander. Hell, you left without your jacket and without saying goodbye! Who knows how cold it was driving back here on your motorcycle without at least some form of protection from the cold?” Val spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. He was raising his voice, like he always did when he was passionate and concerned, and Sander didn’t know what to do, running a hand through his hair, his anxiety running high. “Look, I know that there’s something going on with you and you know that I’m always able to know. But, you cannot carry the world on your shoulders, okay? You’ll just end up hurting yourself and the people around you.”

“I know,” Sander whispered, thinking of how many times he had parroted the same words to Camille, his baby sister, who used to walk around with the same thoughts in her head. 

“You know that you can talk to me, right?” 

Sander nodded his head. 

“So, what’s going on?”

Sander swallowed, looking over at his friend standing in his art room, his old childhood friend that had seen every single ugly side of Sander and had stayed with him, that was willing to accept him back into his life with open arms even after Sander had stepped away, following Britt’s wishes. And, Sander found that he couldn’t keep _this_ from him, that he didn’t want to. “You have to promise not to tell Amber, okay?” Sander whispered and Val nodded his head. “I haven’t gotten a chance to tell my mom and that’s a face-to-face conversation that you need to have, you know?” 

Val nodded again. “I understand, Sander.”

“There’s a girl… that’s been stalking me…” 

And, so, Sander told him. He told Val about the messages that Estelle had sent, about the ones that were simply asking about his day and about the others which involved pictures or words that were inappropriate to send to someone you didn’t know. He told Val about how he and Camille had been headed to see a movie, to hang out before she went on her vacation, and returned because Sander forgot something, only to find the girl stalking him in her living room. How he managed to get a restraining order. How he saw her knocking on doors the other day.

“Have you told anyone?” Val spoke up. They had moved into the kitchen. Sometime in the past twenty-four hours, Val had been in here, taking some things out of boxes and organizing them around. Val knew how particular Sander was, so he vaguely where Sander liked things. He had set up the coffee ingredients, the ones that Sander had just been fishing out of the box to put them back, next to the coffee maker. When Sander didn’t answer, Val continued, “About her knocking on doors?” 

“I told my landlord, but I haven’t told the police yet,” Sander admitted. 

“Why not?”

“They can’t arrest her for anything,” Sander replied. “All she did was knock on some doors. And, besides, if I went to them and they go question her, she would know for sure that I live in this apartment complex and all she’ll end up doing is coming back.”

Val nodded his head, understanding. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.” He glanced over at Sander. “Is that why you ran from the party? Because you thought she was there?”

“No,” Sander replied. “I left for a different reason.” His friend’s eyes got narrow, staring at him with a confused glare, silently telling him to spill it. “Okay, okay… before I realized that she had found out that I lived in this apartment complex, I was seeing somebody.” 

The mere thought of Robbe was enough to make Sander smile. But, the image was quickly drowned, taken over by the words that he had sent to him, his mind’s own conjured image of a broken Robbe, sad and defeated all because of _him_. His smile disappeared and Sander bit down on his lip, the pain briefly batting away the words that flooded in his mind.

_You’re toxic._

“Who were you seeing?”

Sander swallowed. “His name is Robbe. And, he came over to the apartment a few times…”

Val nodded his head. “Well, you seemed really happy for a second there,” Val noted, looking grim. “Did you guys have a bad breakup? If I had known, I wouldn’t have been all over Soph. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Sander interrupted, shaking his head. “No, it’s not that. I promise.” There was a look of relief that crossed over Val’s face before it was replaced with one of concern. But, he didn’t have to ask this time for Sander to continue, “After I realized that she had found me, I had cut it off. I really like him, but I couldn’t stand the thought of him getting hurt because of me.” Val opened his mouth to respond, but Sander didn’t let him talk, adding, “But, he doesn’t want anything to do with me now. He saw me kissing that girl, Laura, and he ran out of the club.” 

“How do you know he saw you?” Val questioned. 

Sander sent him a look.

“What? It’s a valid question!” 

It was, but Sander didn’t want to admit it. “Why else would he go running from the club and leave all of his friends behind with no idea where he went?” Val seemed to nod his head, leaning against the counter. “And, besides, it’s all my fault that he got hurt.”

“Hey, you had no idea that he would’ve been in that club,” Val interrupted. 

“I should’ve.”

“Sander,” Val spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. “Stop putting so the blame on yourself! It is not your fault.”

“But, it is my fault.”

“How so?”

“I got too comfortable,” Sander admitted, feeling the tears prick his eyes. 

He was unable to look up at Val, certain that there was an exasperated look in his eyes. “Sander, there is absolutely _nothing_ wrong with you being comfortable.” He took a step forward, closer to Sander, but he still refused to meet his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with that. 

“I got too comfortable, Val,” Sander started. He felt Val move to interrupt, but he shook his head, silently telling him not to. “No, it’s true. I got too comfortable and I wasn’t thinking. I thought that I had lost her because of the restraining order and moving away. But, I didn’t. She showed up, here, knocking on doors, and I almost put someone in danger because I got too comfortable.” 

Val let out a sigh. “Sander, look at me.” Sander raised his eyes to meet Val’s blue ones. “It’s not your fault that this girl has attached herself to you. But, you don’t need to punish yourself for something that you can’t control.” Sander wanted to believe him, but he couldn’t. “Does Robbe make you happy?”

Sander blinked. “Huh?”

“Does Robbe make you happy?” Val repeated. Sander didn’t reply right away, his mind conjuring images of Robbe in his bed, his arms and legs wrapped around Sander like a koala, and the warm fuzzy feeling, so foreign and new filling up his entire body. And, Val spoke up, only partially obliterating the image, “You might as well go ahead and say yes because I already know the answer.”

“Yes,” Sander replied, laughing lightly. 

“See? Was that so hard?” Val replied. 

“No,” Sander replied. “But, that doesn’t change anything.” Val raised an eyebrow. “Robbe, he still ran out of the club.” He glanced at his phone, which Val had brought it. There were notifications from Amber and Sophie and his mom (and Britt, he rolled his eyes), but Robbe’s name wasn’t on the screen. “He still hasn’t responded to my texts.” 

“But, he’s worth fighting for, right?” Val spoke up. “Sander, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you look like this… Actually, I don’t think I have. Whoever he is, he makes you happy and you deserve it.” He reached out, patting Sander’s shoulder. “You want him. You owe it to yourself to try and make this right.” 

Sander nodded his head. “I missed you, Val.” 

“I missed you too,” Val replied. “Oh, by the way, I posted on your Instagram while you were asleep because I saw that some people were commenting where you were on old photos. It was just a photo of boxes with the caption ‘unpacking’. You can check it if you want to.” Sander pulled up his Instagram account, finding the photo in question. “I’m glad I decided not to go with a window setting, but I didn’t want to post something like that without your permission.”

“Thank you,” Sander replied. “Wait, you follow me?”

Val rolled his eyes. “Of course, I do.” 

* * *

Sander had forgotten what it was like to have friends.

In the years since his relationship with Britt, he had fallen out of touch with everyone that had mattered, with Noor, with Senne, with Val and Sophie and the boys. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed them until Sophie showed up at the apartment, knocking with a familiar rhythm and showing off her haul from the latest set and leftover Italian food that the other models didn’t eat when Val had opened the door. There was a familiar buzz in the room like she always did that, and she proudly talked to Sander like he hadn’t just run out of a party where they meant to reunite.

It felt like no time had changed, like they were a few years younger, as though nothing had changed. 

But, Sander knew that they had changed. 

That _he_ changed. 

“You should come to lunch with us on Thursday!” Sophie spoke up, leaning back against the barstool. Sander was moving around the kitchen, his skin buzzing to get to _normal_ without all the cardboard boxes and mess around the apartment. It was beginning to drive him crazy. Val was circling around Sander’s mindless sorting of things in cabinets, helping pull things out of boxes for Sander to put away, bending down to help him organize the cabinet space, tearing down boxes so he could keep them later. 

“Huh?” Sander questioned, turning towards the blonde. 

“What? You should!” Sophie spoke up. “Come on, we never get to go out together! And, I see him all the time. I practically live at his place.”

“Maybe you should just move in,” Val teased, not even looking over his shoulder. 

Sophie rolled her eyes at her boyfriend, turning back towards the blond who donned a bright grin as he glanced between the two of them. “Come on, Sander. Please? For me?”

Though the answer, a resounding _yes_ , was on the tip of his tongue, Estelle had appeared in the front of his mind yet again. At this rate, it seemed that Sander would never be able to escape her and her influence, constantly looking over his shoulder for the sight of her brown hair or someone who looked like her. Val’s words had come to his mind, _it’s not your fault_ , but he couldn’t help the need to protect them from her, just in case. 

“I want to,” Sander replied, feeling his shoulders sag. “But…” 

“It’s about that girl isn’t it?” Sophie spoke up. Sander blinked at her, confused, so she continued, “When I called earlier to see if you were hungry, Val told me the short version of it. And, don’t worry, I’m not going to tell Amber.” Val gave him a sympathetic look, but Sander wasn’t that surprised. He hadn’t expected Val to keep a secret from Sophie. He didn’t ask him to do that. “But, I don’t want you to live your life in fear.” 

“I just don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Sander,” Sophie whispered, reaching out her hands, wiggling her fingers until Sander took her hands in his own. “Trust me, I know. I can’t tell you how many creepy messages and half-nude pictures I’ve gotten from guys jus because I look pretty on Instagram. Thankfully, mine have never gotten much further than that, but I know some of what you’re going through.” 

Sander nodded his head. 

“You’re trying to protect everyone,” Sophie continued, squeezing his hands tightly. “But, the truth is that the only thing you are doing is hurting those around you _and_ yourself.” Her thumb brushed across the back of his hand and Sophie smiled, slightly. “You’re isolating yourself and I don’t want you to have to live in fear of her being around the corner. So, please, one lunch?”

Sander let out a sigh. “I just don’t want her to hurt you. Since the restraining order went through, she’s been sending me messages for weeks saying that there’s no one who will ever keep us apart.”

“Personally,” Sophie spoke up, sitting back and crossing her arms over her chest, “I would love to see her try to hurt either one of us. Don’t get me wrong, stalkers _are_ scary and they definitely should be feared, but my brothers are scarier. One is a cop, one is a lawyer, and one is a scientist. Between the three of them, they’re all pretty protective of me and they’d do anything to protect me. And _you._ ” 

Sander smiled. 

“So, if you ever need help with anything about legal stuff, let me know,” Sophie spoke up.

Sander turned towards Val, who was idly pulling the spice rack and the assorted spices from the kitchen box that was on the counter. “So,” Sander spoke up, causing his friend to look up, realizing that he had been spoken to. “How was meeting the brothers for the first time ?”

Val sent him a look, partially exasperated and partially worried and absolutely _frightened_ , “I was walking on pins and needles for the entire time. I had met them before, but it was different because now I’m the _boyfriend_ and they had to let me know.”

Sophie laughed and, after a while of Sophie’s melodious laughter, Sander found himself able to smile again.

* * *

Sander didn’t believe in the idea of fate. 

Fate was something that you couldn’t control. Fate was something that you left to the whim of something that you couldn’t choose, something you couldn’t control, something that you simply were waiting for to happen, for things to happen for a reason. Fate seemed like something that you waited around for and Sander hated waiting for things to happen. 

And, so, Sander didn’t like fate. 

Sander liked being the director of his own life, like he told Robbe, choosing which paths he chose, whether it be a person or a thing. He chose to kiss Laura, he chose to stay with Britt, he had taken one look at Robbe and chose that he was the one for him, and he chose to move apartments to get away from the wandering eyes of Estelle. Every choice, every act, every breath that Sander had done in life or taking, that he was proud of and choices that he was ashamed of, was something that he had chosen to do and he owned up to it. 

And, that philosophy of his, the one that he lived by, that he used to justify anything that he had done, both the good and the bad, is exactly why this was so confusing. 

The restaurant that Sophie had chosen for lunch, for the three of them to meet up and hang out between sets and Val’s lunch break, had been on the other end of town and Sander had never heard of it before. The artist had decided to take the bus to see what kind of people he could sketch on the way there, in the back, huddled beneath his hoodie and leather jacket. The restaurant had been down the street from Val’s work which was lucky because his meeting ran late and the two of them had to order food without him. Sophie had decided that she wanted to walk over to a store before she returned to her set and, because Val went to work, Sander was dragged along. 

“Oh, look, Sander,” Sophie had teased, dragging him behind her. She gestured to the shop beside her and Sander rolled his eyes, staring at the tuxedo shop. “I’m sure that if you dress like you aren’t in some 1980s American movie, you might get twice the admirers.” It was a tease and Sander had to smile, but he thought of Robbe and his brown hair and clothes a size too big and the way he liked Sander exactly like he was, and it made him a little bit sad. 

He thought of Robbe, of the picture that Sander had sent him, drawn in the middle of the night when he had woken up from a dream that felt too real, was too real, and he had to get it down on paper. He had sent it to Robbe on a whim, a silent declaration of what they could’ve been in the universe where Sander never sent that message, but it had been left unanswered and Sander didn’t blame him for not responding. 

Sander didn’t believe in fate. 

But, glancing into the tuxedo store that Sophie had pointed out, on their way to a shoe store that Sophie _had_ to check out, and spotting the profile of the man that he had been thinking about, his brown-haired skater boy that had been filling his head all week, all weekend, the past several days, it made it difficult for Sander to scoff at the idea of fate. He felt his chest tighten as he struggled to breathe, moving towards the tuxedo shop and feeling his hand on the door before Sophie’s voice pulled him out of it. 

“Sander?” she questioned. 

Sander looked towards her. “Give me a second? I’ll meet you at the shoe shop.”

Sophie’s eyes were wide, confused evident, but she nodded her head, moving down the street. Sander stepped into the tuxedo shop and as soon as the door shut behind him, he caught sight, fully of Robbe. He was standing on the platform, dressed in a tux that fit him a little too well, and Sander was almost ashamed at his primal instinct to tear it off of him. Sander liked Robbe in his normal clothes, a size too big and hanging off of him, but this, clothes that fit perfectly and a tux no less… he wouldn’t say no to that. 

Sander opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t, closing his mouth. He steeled his nerves, opening out and somehow managing to emit a “Hey.”

The look on Robbe’s face is priceless.

Robbe turned, shock and surprise written plainly over his face. His mouth dropped open slightly and his eyes went wide. Sander had always thought that Robbe’s eyes reminded him of an innocent deer, but this look that he had right now was definitely a deer caught in headlights, confused and bewildered and maybe a little scared as he stared at Sander. He could feel his heart thump nervously in his chest, watching as Robbe’s eyes flittered over Sander’s figure too. 

“Sander,” Senne spoke and Sander hadn’t even realized that Senne was there. Sander looked over, spotting the brunet standing off the edge of the platform. His arms were crossed over his chest and there was a hardened look in his eyes as he glanced between them. Though he was smiling, understanding and protectiveness flared in his eyes, a silent message conveyed in them. “Long time no see.”

It wasn’t, and Sander felt like that was the point. 

But, the sight of Senne had made him smile more. “Senne,” he replied. “It’s been a bit.” 

Senne nodded his head, glancing towards Robbe. Sander did the same, spotting the confused look on the skater boy’s face and saw him turn towards Senne for an explanation. “Remember when I moved out of the flatshare when Zoë and I broke up?” Robbe nodded his head. “Sander and I were roommates in another flatshare.”

“Oh,” Robbe replied, sounding like he couldn’t believe it. 

Senne’s eyes flickered back over to Sander before he turned completely towards Robbe. “I’ll go see what’s taking the two of them so long.” Robbe had nodded in response and Senne was already moving away from them. 

Sander took a tentative step closer, wanting to wrap Robbe up his arms, kiss him until neither one of them could breathe, until he couldn’t deny how much Sander loved him, but he shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and waited. “Okay,” Robbe had already pivoted, calling towards Senne, who turned back towards him. “Don’t forget that you have to try one on too. You are the one getting married after all.” 

Senne grinned at Robbe, smug and confident, “I’ll wait until you get back in your baggy clothes. Don’t want to show you up and you get jealous.”

In Sander’s personal opinion, he thought that it was physically impossible to show up Robbe, especially when he was looking like that, but he elected not to say anything, his eyes already moving hurriedly over Robbe’s entire body, trying to commit it all to memory, because he looked absolutely beautiful. 

Robbe stepped down from the platform and Sander glanced up, his green eyes meeting Robbe’s brown. He glanced quickly to where Senne had disappeared, and Robbe turned to look, but he felt a little relieved that the two of them were alone. Robbe returned to face Sander, a cautious look in his eyes. 

In his chest, he felt his heart begin to break a little. Robbe had never been cautious around Sander. He had followed Sander halfway across the city, followed him into the darkness and (naked) into a pool, he had been quick to wrap his arms around Sander, cling to him like a koala, peppering kisses against his cheeks and jaw until Sander had to push him away so he could breathe. To see him cautious around Sander, it hurt because he had known that he fucked up, but no more so than now.

“Hey,” Sander breathed out. 

“Hey,” Robbe echoed. Sander wanted to say something about how good he looked in the tux, but Robbe beat him to opening his mouth and forming a complete sentence, asking, “What are you doing here?” 

Sander blinked. That hadn’t been the question that he was expecting to hear. “I was having lunch with some friends and saw you so I thought that I would come in and say hi,” Sander replied, gesturing to the door behind him. Robbe’s face twisted downward, barely, hardly noticeable, but Sander thought that he had said something wrong. Biting down on his lip, Sander confessed, “You look nice.” 

It was the understatement of the year.

“Thanks.” 

Sucking in a breath, he took a chance, feeling the flirtatious lift in his voice, his eyes already moving from Robbe’s face and down his body, like his own eyes were unable to stop themselves, as he spoke, “I’d rate you five stars on booking.com.” 

Robbe sucked in a breath. “How was that girl at the club?” 

Sander’s eyes snapped back up to Robbe’s and he asked, just to make sure, “Huh?” 

“At the party on Saturday,” Robbe continued. His fingers reached up, grasping at the dark red fabric of the tie and pulling at it. Sander might’ve never seen him angry before, but he could practically see the simmering anger beneath Robbe’s shoulders. “The girl that you were dancing with and kissing.”

Sander hadn’t been dancing, but Laura had been, and he had swayed to her touch, hoping to forget his own stupidity at making this beautiful man in front of him so angry at him. But, Robbe didn’t want to hear that and Sander didn’t know what to say to make it better, whispering out a defeated “Oh” to let him know that he had heard. 

“What was she?” Robbe questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Nothing compared to you,” Sander confessed, feeling suddenly defeated. 

It’s not hard to see the eye roll and Sander didn’t need to be a genius to figure out that Robbe didn’t believe a word that he had said. Shame welled in his stomach as Robbe turned away. He, Sander, had done this. There was nothing that Sander wanted to do more than kiss Robbe right there, turn back the clock to never send that text, Estelle be damned, because he couldn’t stand the thought of Robbe looking so defeated and upset at the sight of him. 

Robbe turned away and without thinking of what might happen next, Sander moved to follow, “Robbe, wait.” 

“Sander,” Robbe whispered, turning back towards him. There was an unsure look still present in Robbe’s eyes and it filled his voice too. In addition, he sounded sad, a lot like Sander felt, and his own heart ripped a little more in his chest. “I don’t understand what’s going on.” 

Swallowing, Sander whispered, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m already hurting.”

That is what broke Sander’s heart the most. Because, he could see it in his eyes, past the brown hues that held Robbe’s Bambi eyes, the ones that lit up his entire face when he was happy, and pulled down his entire face when he was sad. And, now, it was the latter and Sander was the one who had done that, who caused that look to be there, and he hung his head in shame. 

Robbe stepped away from him and the front door opened, letting in a burst of cold air. 

“Come,” Sophie whispered, her cold hand grabbing his own as she tugged him out of the store. Sander let himself sway to her pull. “Let’s get you home.”

* * *

Robbe was like a wildfire burning in his lungs.

It didn’t matter how many times Sander sketched Robbe, how many times he painted their few memories together on a canvas, or how many times Sander woke up, heaving, from the same dream of Robbe in his bed, clothes shed, and lips pressed together, Robbe was still there, present in his mind, sitting on his bed, wrapped up in his sheets, like a silent illusion of what might’ve been, in another place, in another time, in another _universe_ , where things were different. 

Robbe was all he thought about.

Robbe was all he dreamed about.

But, each dream made it hurt worse. 

Each dream made him _crave_ more.

And, Sander didn’t know how much longer he could keep it all locked inside. He had to let Robbe know how he felt. No, he needed to let Robbe know how he felt, how he _really_ felt, and simple texts with drawings or cryptic Instagram posts were not going to be enough. The artist needed something big, something grand, something so unapologetically _Sander_. He wanted Robbe to know what Sander meant and how he felt without Sander needing to say. 

_It’s you._

_It’s always been you._

So, that was why he was here, shivering in the cold outside of this commercial building. He had a set of gloves over his hands, a scarf wrapped over his neck and mouth, two hoodies beneath his leather jacket, and a pair of pajama pants beneath his denim jeans. His green bag was hanging from his shoulder and the ladder he found around the corner leaning up against the wall. 

He didn’t grab the sketch from where he had left it in his art room.

Because, at the end of the day, he didn’t need it. 

Robbe had been ingrained into his memory so much that, even if Sander never saw him again for 80 years, he would never be able to forget the brunet skater boy that had captured his heart in the moonlight without realizing that he had done so. 

* * *

_Slam._

Sander bolted upward, nearly knocking over the lamp that sat on the nightstand, and reaching out to clutch at the bottle of beer that he had barely gotten a sip of before passing out on the couch. He shouldn’t have gotten it, that he knows with a voice that sounded a lot like his mother’s in his head, lightly chastising him in worried tones. The alcohol would screw up with his medication. He knew that. But, Sander needed that bottle of alcohol more than he would ever admit to his mother. His eyes darted over to the front door finding Amber taking off her beige coat, placing it on the hook that Val helped him hang up and kicking off her shoes. 

“I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon,” Amber spoke, a little harshly but worried all the same. She pulled her phone, typing out a message, likely to Aaron, as Sander rubbed his eyes and relaxed his grip on the neck of the beer bottle. “Your mom has been worried sick. She’s been trying to get in touch with you and I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”

“My phone is probably dead,” he mumbled sleepily. Trying to avoid the unasked question that she was going to ask, he added, “I thought you had plans with Aaron…” 

“I did with Aaron and the boys and Lucas,” Amber replied, her voice getting softer as she moved towards him, now free of her shoes too. There’s a pang of sadness, the _boys_ , but Amber wouldn’t know that the thought had ripped open his chest again. He hadn’t even told her about _Estelle_ , let alone Robbe, “But, I was worried about you and they understood.”

“You didn’t tell them…”

“No, I didn’t,” Amber replied, plopping down on the edge of the armchair. “The only person that knows you’re my cousin is Aaron and he hasn’t told anyone. I promise. He may not understand why, but he hasn’t told any of the boys.” 

Sander nodded his head, feeling the cavern where his heart was torn at the edges. 

“What’s going on, Sander?” Amber pleaded. Sander settled back into the sheets, his eyelids feeling like heavy curtains that he was unable to keep open. He had been spray-painting all night. There was still paint on his fingertips of the intense colors when he had to take off his gloves because he couldn’t get it to be specific _enough_ for his overactive mind. There’s shuffling and Amber’s hand was on his knee, forcing his eyes open for a little while longer. “Please, just tell me that you are okay. I’m so worried about you and so is your mom.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sander whispered. 

“But, you’re not fine now?” Amber whispered. 

He shook his head. 

“What happened?”

“There’s this boy…” Sander started, feeling his eyes get heavier. “And… I really like him, but I fucked it up and now there’s no going back…” He could feel the dark edges of sleep beckoning him and his words began to slur. “And, I want to tell him how I feel and that I’m sorry… but I-”

“Shh,” Amber spoke, her fingers running through his hair. “Go to sleep. I’ll make something to eat that’ll make you feel better.” 

Sander was out. 

Unsurprisingly, he dreamed of Robbe. Sander thought that he should be worried about the number of times that he dreamed of Robbe, but it was never anything hot and heavy or anything that he would have to be worried about once he woke up. But, this dream was a little different. They weren’t doing anything, just laying together in peaceful bliss, arms wrapped together, skin-to-skin, and Sander gripped onto Robbe tightly like he would drift away, fade into smoke. 

And, that’s what happened when Amber woke him up, her hand on his knee and a sorrowful look on her face. 

“It’s Robbe, isn’t it?” Amber whispered. “That boy you were talking about.” 

Sander blinked at her in confusion, wondering how she could’ve possibly guessed who he had been within his dreams and for those blissful few days of kissing and holding one another. But, then, Amber showed Sander the phone in her hand, _her_ phone, his tired mind caught up, a photo of the mural in her text messages with Aaron. Seeing the mural again made his heartache again, remembering the chaos and uncertainty that went into it, but it’s the message beneath the photo that made his heart skip.

 _Look what we found at the building across from the skatepark._ _  
_ _Just so you know, I heard Noor and Robbe talking with Jens on the ride home._ _  
_ _They said that Sander painted it._

Sander glanced up at Amber and, knowing that he was unable to lie to her now, he nodded his head. 

“What happened?” Amber questioned, putting her phone in her lap. “He never mentioned you, but I could tell that something was going on. He wasn’t home as much anymore and Jens would stay up late to give him twenty questions.” 

“Got scared,” Sander whispered, which wasn’t a lie but might’ve been a half-truth.

“Because of your diagnosis?” Amber guessed. 

Truth to be told, it wasn’t far off. 

Of course, Estelle appearing at his apartment was the main catalyst for why he ended things with Robbe. 

But, Sander’s diagnosis was never far behind his mind and it wasn’t easy for him to admit that it might be easier for them ending like this, calling off their relationship before Robbe had a chance to see an episode, to see him like _that_ and scare him away. He knew that it was a part of him, knew that his medication helped him, and he was fine with that. But, Britt finding out about his diagnosis had changed the entirety of their relationship. He couldn’t let go of the unconscious fear that Robbe would treat him differently once he had found out. 

Maybe it would be better if they stayed apart… 

Amber reached out, grabbing Sander’s hand in her own. He hadn’t realized that he had clenched his hands into a fist, his fingernails digging into the palm of his hand, likely breaking the skin. His fingers relaxed and his hand unclenched as Amber ran her thumb along the back of his hand. “Sander,” Amber whispered, causing him to look up at her. “You don’t need to be scared of things changing or him leaving, not with Robbe. He’s not going to treat you any differently once he finds out.” 

“Well, we might never know, will we?” 

There’s a look of sadness that crossed Amber’s face. She looked like she was about to say something and Sander braced himself for the statement that she was about to say. Once people found out about his diagnosis, they always treated him differently. Robbe would be no different. But, before either one of them could say anything, a timer went off and Amber hopped up, dropping his hand, and moved to the kitchen to get whatever the timer was for. 

Sander’s eyes found his phone propped up on the nightstand, charging on the corner. He tried to ignore it, to prolong the inevitable, but he couldn’t. He needed to know. Sander weakly crawled towards it, still half asleep, and unlocked the phone to see his notifications.

Messages from Mom.

Messages from Camille, photos from her trip.

Val.

Sophie.

There wasn't a message from Robbe. 

His chest deflated and he hung his head, running a hand through his hair. 

“Here you go,” Amber spoke, returning to his side. Sander glanced up, finding a plate with at least three croques in front of his face. “I figured you needed this right about now.” 

And, despite the heaviness in his chest, at the thought of Robbe rejecting him because of his diagnosis, at the thought of Robbe seeing the mural and not reaching out, he felt himself smile up at her, accepting his cousin’s hug and forehead kiss before she headed back into the kitchen, presumably to make something for herself. 

* * *

Sander couldn't sleep. 

It was becoming a frightening habit, how long Sander stays up at night, lying in his bed. He would try to count down from 100 and end up doing it several times, never working. Once that failed, he would lean back and close his eyes, try to lose himself in a dream that he concocts to try and trick his brain into letting him sleep and failing miserably every time. Occasionally, he would get up to grab his sketchbook so he can get his thoughts down on paper but it would never work. But, often, he found himself looking at Robbe’s messages.

The ones that he got on Monday. 

The ones he never answered. 

_Hey Sander._ _  
_ _Sorry I haven’t gotten back to you yet_ _  
_ _But that wall…_ _  
_ _That was the drawing you showed me right?_ _  
_ _Could you come by?_ _  
_ _Or… I could come over to your place, to talk?_

A handful of times, he opened the messages, more often than not in the middle of the night, and started typing out a message, _yes it was_ , _yes you can come over_ , _please, I miss you and your touch and your kiss and I want you and only you, let me make it up to you_ , but every time, without fail, Sander would delete the message, lock his phone, and toss it away. Despite everything, Sander had never felt so conflicted in his life, half of him wanting to protect Robbe and the other half yearning to rush over, beat on the door until he opened and beg him to forgive him.

Sander bit down on his lip, reaching out for his phone and checking the time. 

3:00.

Breathing in, Sander called the person he needed to talk to.

“Sander?” his mother’s voice questioned. She wasn’t asleep, Sander knew that the woman didn’t go to sleep until almost eleven, but she sounded slightly frantic, worried. “What’s going on? It’s nearly 3 over there.”

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Sander whispered. He pushed himself up and pinched his nose. He didn’t mean to cause her to worry. “I know that you’re probably wrapping up that commission, but I just really wanted to talk to you…” He could hear his mother shuffling around, talking to someone in low voices, and Sander quickly added, “But, we can talk tomorrow if you-”

“No, Sander, it’s okay,” his mother replied, moving around and causing movement to sound through the phone. “I just need to step onto the balcony real quick. I can talk to you.” Sander felt himself smile. There was more shuffling, a slam of a door, and the light sound that the wind made when it went into a microphone. “Now, what’s going on?” 

“Don’t sound too happy, but Britt and I broke up.” 

“Oh,” his mother replied. He could hear a slight smile in her voice. He knew that neither his mother and his sister liked Britt, but that wasn’t the reason that he continuously went back to Britt. He went back to Britt because she made him feel loved, in ways that he had craved, but it hadn’t been enough. 

Now that he had met Robbe, he knew that to be true. Robbe made him feel more loved in three days than Britt did in three years. “And, I met someone else,” Sander added. He could feel his mother begin to speak, begin to question, but Sander added, “But, I think I fucked it up.” 

His mother was quiet. “Alright, what happened?” 

Sander felt his lip quiver. There was no way to get around it. If he told his mother about Robbe and why he had pushed him away, all of it, he needed to tell his mother about Estelle as well. He didn’t want her to get angry at him for keeping it from her, didn’t want to hear her sad voice when she realized that he did, but he couldn’t keep it in anymore. 

And, he really missed his mom. 

“Can you promise that you won’t get upset when I tell you something?” Sander whispered, tears sliding down his cheeks without even realizing that they had formed.

He knew that his mother could hear the crack in his voice, probably pinpoint the fact that he was on the verge of crying, and that his mother would probably fly on the earliest plane to Belgium if she didn’t have the obligation to finish the commission. While Sander had looked exactly like his father, a mirror image like someone sculpted Sander in the image of his father, he got his heart from his mother and he knew that hers was probably breaking at the sound of him in tears. 

“I promise,” his mother whispered. “Now, what’s going on?” 

The story that he told his mom was roughly what he had told Val. There were a few details that he didn’t want to have to tell her, like the severity of Estelle’s messages, what she had sent him, and the angry texts that he started to receive after the court order. When Sander had told her that he went to the police, he could hear the breath of relief in her voice. Sander didn’t like going to the police, his father had never been helpful and as such he had become weary of police, but he felt like that had been one of the instances that needed it desperately.

“I can be home tomorrow,” his mother said. 

“Mom, you don’t have to.”

“No, Sander, you’re my son and you don’t need to be doing this alone.”

“No, seriously, Mom,” Sander whispered, running his hands through his hair. It’s only partially a lie, because he wants nothing more for his mother to be home, so he can wrap his arms tightly around her, but he didn’t want his mother to fly home simply for him. “It’s fine. I’ve got Amber… I’m fine, I promise.” He paused before adding, “I don’t want you to come home just for me.” 

“Sander.”

“I’m okay,” Sander whispered. 

“Okay,” his mother conceded, still sounding worried. “But, I am still going to move up my return a couple of days early. I’ll be back by next Tuesday or Wednesday. I promise.” Sander nodded his head, aware that she couldn’t see him, but not caring about it at all. “Now, this person that you met. Can I have their name?”

“His name is Robbe and…” he trailed off, biting the inside of his cheek. “I miss him a lot.” 

“Well, have you reached out to Robbe, to explain?” his mother questioned. 

“I don’t know if it’s going to work, Mama,” Sander whispered, biting down on his lip again. “I… I fucked it up really bad. I don’t think that he wants me around.” He sighed. “I broke it off because of that and told him that I needed space and then… he saw me kiss a girl back and ran off before I… I didn’t even know he was there and I just…”

“Sander,” his mother whispered. “Breathe. Everything is going to work out, okay?” 

“How can you be sure?” 

“Mother’s intuition,” his mother spoke. Sander laughed, running his hand over his face and letting out a laugh to himself. “Now, why don’t you tell me about this Robbe. After that, maybe you’ll be able to get some sleep and get your mind off things. Does that sound like a plan to you?”

“Wonderful,” Sander admitted. 

* * *

His phone buzzed on his work desk, lighting up the screen. Sander had been half-tempted to let it go without looking at who it was. It had been nearly an entire week before he had even _touched_ a commission and he needed to get some work done before his on-hand funds got dangerously low. But, it might’ve been Val or Amber checking in on him and he didn’t need them worrying anymore. 

So, he reached out, tilting the phone up, and he spotted the caller id, making his phone drop out of his hands and his heart managed to do a perfect somersault in his ribcage. 

Robbe. 

Even after talking to his mom, he still didn’t know what to respond to Robbe’s messages. He wanted him. He wanted him _badly_ , in every way that he had ever craved anyone ever, and about ten times more. He wanted Robbe to be his forever and always, the father of their kids, should they choose to have any, his lifelong partner. But, he also wanted to protect Robbe, from Estelle’s grasp, and that wasn’t something that could easily go away with a simple phone call to his mom. 

Sander abandoned the commission that he had started for one of his regulars, opening his phone with a shaky slide of his finger, a mismatched and feeling the dread in his gut. 

_I want clarity. Either you choose me. Or it’s over for me here and now._

Sander knew what he had to do. 

No, he decided, getting up from his chair and going to get his wallet and keys and leather jacket, he knew what he _needed_ to do. He needed to find Robbe and let him know that no matter what, Sander would always choose him, because Robbe was the only person that he wanted to spend his life with.

* * *

Sander had gotten to Robbe’s apartment complex early. It hadn’t taken him long to find the address in his text messages to Noor and he drove his motorcycle over, leaving it in the parking space that was designated for motorbikes. He had the apartment number too, but after a couple of minutes of knocking, he determined that no one was home. And, a text to Noor confirmed his suspicions. 

_Why are you asking?_

_Did you finally get your head out of your ass about Robbe?_

She knew. Of course, she did. 

_Yeah. I’ll explain it to you later. I promise._

_He should hear it from me first. Do you know where he is?_

_Good. He needs an answer._

_He’s confused and you honestly haven’t been helping._

Sander couldn’t argue with that.

_And, it’s Friday. He’s probably visiting his mother._

So, Sander went down to the café that was beside the apartment complex. He ordered a cup of coffee, found a table where he could see the apartment door, should he be unable to catch Robbe as he passed, and waited patiently. Or, as patiently as he could. Sander was always too jittery normally, bouncing his leg and unable to keep his hands still. But, now, it was amped up to ten as his body buzzed and dread forming in his stomach as the hours bled on. 

Would Robbe even come home tonight? The thought had occurred to him around seven. What if he was spending the night at his mother’s place? He was half-tempted to text Robbe, find out where he was so Sander could go to him, at his mother’s place, and not waste any time. But, he didn’t want to bother Robbe’s mother, especially when Robbe was spending time specifically with her, and he had wanted to be alone with him, press a kiss to his lips until Sander could make up for what he had done. 

“Here you go,” the barista whispered, patting his shoulder, as she sat down another cup of coffee, picking up the empty one he had left on his table. It had been his third or fourth one. He could vaguely spot the baristas giving him small looks of concern, writing down a tally of his coffee on a piece of receipt paper. Despite all of the caffeine that he was drinking, he knew it wasn’t the coffee that was making him jittery, he had a high tolerance from drinking coffee all the time. 

His mind was just consumed with the thought of Robbe, all of Robbe, every bit in every universe. 

As the hours bled on, Sander found himself trying to stay busy, to distract from the fear and dread in his stomach. He played with his phone, doodled some of the patrons of the café using napkins and a blue pen that he stole from one of the baristas who left already, and texted his family, who were checking up on him, Amber especially. All the while, he kept his eye glued on the street and the apartment door as if it held all the secrets he had been searching for. 

Finally, it’s past nine and he’s about ready to give up, text Robbe to see where he is and make up some excuse as to why it had taken so long to respond. But, as if the universe had taken pity on him, Robbe turned the corner, perched on his bike and riding towards his apartment building. In one fluid motion, as the bike was still moving, Robbe stood up, swung his leg off, and dropped down, using the last of his momentum to jog to the bike racks. 

The sight of him brought on a fresh wave of nervous nausea and Sander stood up abruptly. He left his doodles and his half-finished glass of coffee on the table. The barista totaled up the total amount of coffee and Sander didn’t care about the amount, handing her money that definitely covered all of it and more, and told them to split the change evenly between anyone who helped them. The baristas tried to say they couldn’t take it, but Sander left the coffee shop, jogging to the apartment complex where Robbe had just disappeared inside. 

Sander pushed open the lobby door, stepping inside. 

Robbe was already across the lobby, his head hung low. One hand was buried deep in his jeans pocket and the other was reaching out towards the elevator door, to press the up button. Despite himself, and frankly unable to control it, Sander breathed in relief, whispering into the silence of the lobby, “Robbe?” 

Robbe paused, his finger hovering above the elevator button and turned towards him. Sander had half-hoped that Robbe would come to him, throw his arms around him, but he knew that he was a fool for hoping for the clingy, koala that Robbe had been at his apartment. The brunet was cautious around him, and Sander didn’t blame him, because Sander had hurt him and he wanted to correct that, kiss every crack until it was healed and reformed and renewed. 

Sander stopped an arm’s length away from Robbe, close enough that the skater could reach out, snag his jacket and pull him close if he wanted. But, he didn’t, simply staring up at Sander with those wide doe eyes that were wavering, flickering between his eyes and his lips, trying to figure out what was going on. Sander swallowed, his eyes dropping down to Robbe’s lip for a second, to silently let him know what he was going to do, before he took another step forward, reaching up to cup Robbe’s face with one hand, leaning down to press their lips together. 

The kiss was soft and sweet and gentle. He could feel the pressure behind Robbe’s lips as Sander threaded his fingers through the strands of Robbe’s hair, his heart lifted, feeling him so close to him. He felt Robbe’s hand reach up, his fingers fisting in the fabric of Sander’s shirt, but then there’s pressure against his chest, pushing him away, originating from Robbe’s hand. 

Sander glanced down at his hand and let out a sigh. 

There was some part of him that had hoped, _desperately_ , that he could properly convey his feelings through kisses. That was how Sander declared his feelings, the ones that mattered, through touches and actions. He had spent an entire lifetime with a father who would say one thing and do another. His years with his father had informed him that words never really mattered because his actions never matched what he said. But, Robbe was different and he wanted clarity and Sander felt his mind spinning, trying to figure out the words to properly tell him what he felt. 

Sander leaned against Robbe, trying to press their foreheads together, brush their noses together, try to tell him silently, but he missed. Robbe was still half angled up, but he braced Sander, keeping him steady without realizing it. Robbe shifted his head, moving so their foreheads pressed together and their noses rubbed against one another. Sander made a deliberate move to repeat it and Robbe mirrored it and somehow, the move made Sander’s entire chest light up.

Somehow, Sander knew that Robbe was willing to forgive him. 

But, he knew that Robbe needed to know, needed to know what Sander had felt for him, and Sander could feel his mind desperately trying to find the right words, the words that matched _perfectly_ with what Sander had felt, the emotional turmoil and love filling his every muscle and vibrating his entire being. How could he tell Robbe, and help him believe, that Sander would always choose Robbe?

Robbe took a step back, refusing to meet his gaze, and something in Sander’s mind clicked, the memory of them on his bed, the parallel universes theory that Robbe loved so much in his mind, the one that made him lonely and scared, but that Robbe would understand. That was it. And it was true. In every universe. 

“You and I,” Sander whispered. Robbe’s eyes connecting with Sander’s, searching for _something_ , but Sander continued, needing Robbe to know, to understand, “One hundred percent, forever. In every universe.” His words somehow felt stronger than anything that Sander would ever say. Somehow, the words made Sander anxious, standing there in front of Robbe with his soul and heart bare. 

By Robbe’s own theory, there were at least two universes that could be made from this moment. One where Robbe rejected Sander and left him in the lobby and one where Robbe forgave him. Sander was _desperately_ hoping for the latter, but the nervousness in his stomach was making him sway in uncertainty. But, his words were true and he hoped that Robbe understood that. 

Robbe swallowed, whispering, “Who was the girl, Sander?” 

“Her name was Laura. I thought that…” He paused, briefly, trying to figure out how much to say, but he thought, _fuck it_ , and continued because Robbe deserved to know everything about what happened. “If I was kissing someone, it would make it easier to forget that I hurt you and pushed you away. But, it didn’t. It only made it worse.” 

“Why did you?” Robbe questioned. “Push me away?”

Sander let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t want her to hurt you…”

“Laura?” Sander shook his head. “Britt?” Again, another shake. “Then who?” Sander shook his head for a third and final time. Even after tell his mom, telling Val and Sophie, he couldn’t tell Robbe, not yet. He didn’t want Robbe to see him like that, so afraid and weak and broken, constantly worrying about looking over his shoulder for someone who shouldn’t be there. 

“I mean it, Robbe,” Sander spoke up, worried that Robbe didn’t believe his words. “You and I. One hundred percent-” 

Robbe stepped closer, standing on his toes to slip their lips together again. It was instantaneously more passionate and frenzied than the one before. Sander let out a sigh, breathing in relief, holding onto Robbe’s sides, gripping at his brown jacket and pushing Robbe towards the wall. He could tell that they were getting close and Sander reached out, his palm smacking the tile, leaving a sting against his palm. Seconds later, the back of Robbe’s head collided against his hand, stopping him from knocking his head completely against the wall. Sander moved his hand, cradling Robbe’s jaw, running his thumb along his jawline. 

He heard the ding of the elevator and, without warning, Robbe grabbed him by the lapels of his leather jacket and clung tightly, pushing him into the elevator and up against one of the walls. Robbe pulled away, only briefly to hit a button, but then their lips were back together. Once the artist felt the upward force of the elevator, Sander wasted no time slipping his hand beneath Robbe’s shirt, feeling his breath hitch in the kiss and his weight lower against his body, before flipping them, so Robbe was against the wall and slotting one of his legs between Robbe’s. 

* * *

Sander let himself be manhandled into the apartment, pushed back into the foyer, and grinned at the sound of the front door slamming shut, dropping his hands shamelessly further down Robbe’s body. The door was locked and Robbe tossed his eyes somewhere, or at least that’s what he _thought_ that was what made that sound, before his hands were back on Sander’s jacket. Robbe pushed the leather jacket off his shoulders, and down his arms, but it got caught on his elbows because Sander refused to drop his hands.

“Off,” Robbe mumbled, the sound escaping in a gasp between their kisses. Sander laughed, removing his hands from Robbe’s waist, relishing in the whine that escaped his lips, and dragging his jacket off the rest of the way. He moved to hang it on the hook, that he had briefly caught sight of, but Robbe’s hands were at his own, taking the leather from him. “Shoes.” 

Sander chuckled to himself, he _did_ choose to wear his Docs today, and stepped back, Robbe whined again, kneeling on the ground to crudely undo the laces. As his fingers worked to undo the laces that he had tied up a little too tightly in his rush to get over here, he glanced up at Robbe, who was still standing, hovering outside of his touch, and taking off his jacket, draping it over Sander’s leather jacket. 

“Bossy Robbe is hot,” he informed him, his voice making his arousal and want obvious. 

Robbe grinned, his dimples showing on the corners of his mouths, and he swallowed. Once the laces were free, Sander yanked the blasted shoes off his feet, placing them beside the ones that Robbe had discarded haphazardly. He stood up, practically throwing himself into Robbe’s kiss, feeling the brunet’s hands on his shirt now, running over his chest as he pushed him back, guiding him through the apartment. 

Once another door closed, Robbe pulled up the fabric of his shirt with one hand, slipping his hand against Sander’s chest, giving him a taste of his own medicine. Sander had been unashamed, having his hand beneath Robbe’s shirt in the elevator, down the hallway, without a care of the world. But, Robbe’s hand against his chest, in the comfort of his room, was suffocating because all Sander wanted to do was to show Robbe how much he felt, how the brunet skater made him feel in every way that he deserved. 

Sander snagged at the hem of his hoodie, grabbing the t-shirt beneath it, and pulled it up with one hand as he traced mirrored patterns against Robbe’s chest. He could hear Robbe’s breath hitch, his arms raised above his head to help take the fabric off, and Sander only broke their kiss to get the fabric over his face. But, as soon as the fabric was over his head, exposing Robbe’s closed eyes and partially open mouth and bare chest, Sander pressed his lips back feverously against his own, discarding them over his shoulder once it was unhooked from Robbe’s wrists. 

Within seconds, Robbe’s hands were on Sander’s shirt, pulling it up and over his head. But, Sander was impatient, ducking out of his own shirt, before blindly searching for Robbe’s lips, finding them and slipping his tongue into his mouth, relishing in Robbe’s kiss. The smaller man wrapped his arm around Sander’s shoulder, gripping him tightly, and guiding him further into the room. 

Suddenly, Robbe’s hands were pushing him, gently but somehow forceful, and there’s a brief moment of panic that rushes through him, but only because he didn’t know _where_ he was going. But, as Sander’s back hit the bed and Robbe climbed over him, his knees on either side of his hips, he let out a gasp, a smile rippling across the entirety of his face, because, of course, Robbe would be the one to manage to make something so forceful so gentle, an inherent contradiction. 

Robbe was staring at him and Sander leaned up, grabbing him and bringing their lips together for a kiss. He lowered down to Sander, pressing their bodies tightly against each other, and they both let out a gasp as their hips rolled together, chasing whatever friction they both craved. 

Sander moved to drag their lips back together, but Robbe dodged him, pressing his lips down his jaw. He leaned back, running his fingers through the strands of Robbe’s hair, tugging slightly as Robbe pressed a kiss behind his ear. He dragged his lips further down Sander’s body, leaving the blond helpless to the way that his lips and teeth shamelessly, ruthlessly, were working on leaving bruises in his wake. 

But, Robbe didn’t stop there. He dragged his lips across Sander’s chest, pausing to place a fleeting kiss against the scar beneath his tattoo, and Sander felt his breath escape him, strangled like he was choking. Robbe’s fingers traced the ink as his lips continued further down his chest, pressing kisses to the curve of his chest, before his fingers, wandered to Sander’s belt. 

Then, he stopped.

“What is it?” Sander whispered, concerned. Robbe placed his forehead against Sander’s stomach, a sigh escaping his lips. “Robbe,” he spoke, partially to get his attention, partially to warn him, before he sat up and forcing Robbe to do the same. He adjusted himself, sitting on Sander’s lap, his hands lingering on Sander’s belt. There was a part of Sander that doesn’t want to stop now that he has Robbe, but Sander only wanted this if Robbe wanted it too. “What is it? We can stop if you want to…”

“No!” Robbe interrupted, shaking his head, quickly, and Sander couldn’t help the light breath of relief that he released. “No, it’s not that. Um… it’s just that… will you be here in the morning?” 

Sander took Robbe’s face in his hands, forcing him to look up at him. He looked so scared, so worried that Sander wouldn’t be here in the morning, and Sander wanted to kiss all his worries away. “Of course I will,” he confessed, before leaning up to press a kiss against Robbe’s lips. He felt Robbe sigh into it, moving his lips move against Sander’s, before they pulled away and Sander dragged his lips against Robbe’s cheekbone. “I’ll be here for as long as you want me.” 

“And if it’s forever?” Robbe whispered, sounding like a confession, his breath ghosting against Sander’s bare shoulder. 

Sander could’ve burst into tears right there. Robbe wanted him, it was something that Sander couldn’t deny, especially right now with Robbe against his lap, their want and need for each other obvious. But, his confession of wanting Sander around forever, it had been all that Sander ever wanted, for someone to want him forever. With Britt. With every hookup that he wanted to be more. But, it never was, it always fell short. 

Until Robbe. 

“Then it’s forever,” he whispered, their lips barely brushing together but not kissing, not quite yet, “Because, from now on, it’s just the two of us.” Robbe smiled and Sander surged forward, dragging their lips together again. Robbe’s hands returned to his belt, working on the buckle, and Sander’s breath hitched sharply. 

* * *

As Sander woke up, he thought, for a moment, that it had all been just a cruel dream, an image that had been concocted to soothe his mind. Sander shoved his eyes closed, trying to hold onto the image of Robbe, his brown hair all messed up and a sleepy, content smile on his face, because he didn’t want to open his eyes and realize that it had all been a dream. 

Then, there was an arm wrapping loosely around his chest, a nose snuggling into the crook of his neck, and a content sigh breathing out over his shoulder. 

Sander opened his eyes, finding himself in an unfamiliar room. He looked around, trying to pinpoint where he had been. There were gaming posters hung on the wall, a desk cluttered with books and papers, and a skateboard leaning against it. There were piles of clothes on the floor near a door which he assumed was the closet, sorted by color, and he felt the bed shift beside him, a content noise being made as Robbe snuggled further against his shoulder. 

_Robbe._

Sander nearly started weeping at the sight of him, turning in Robbe’s arms to stare at him. His temple pressed against Sander’s bicep, a content smile on his faces, his dimples popping up at the corners of his mouth. His hair was messed up, sticking in numerous directions, and Sander reached out, running his fingers over the bruises on his neck, the only bruises that could possibly be made from love. Robbe let out a sigh, snuggling closer, burying his face in his neck again. 

Last night really happened. 

Robbe forgave him. 

Sander reached out, pressing his lips against Robbe’s temple, feeling him let out a sigh, moving closer towards him. His phone let out a beep somewhere across the room. If it hadn’t been the ringtone that he reserved for his family, he would’ve left it, but Camille was supposed to be coming home soon and Sander was supposed to pick her up. Sander slid out, carefully placing Robbe’s head against the pillow, pressing a kiss to his temple, before he slid out from under the duvet and moved towards his phone, pulling it from the pocket of his pants. 

It wasn’t Camille. It was Amber. 

_I guess things went well because your boots are still here._ _  
_ _Want some coffee?_

As if on cue, Sander could smell the scent of coffee from the kitchen, the light whirl of the coffee maker, and his stomach started to growl. A sense of dread formed over Sander, thinking about his time in the café. He had drunk enough coffee to power someone for three days, but did he eat food last night before Robbe showed up?

 _Yeah, I’d love some._ _  
_ _I might need to step out and get some food._

_I’ve got stuff for croques._

_You do?_

_You and your sister aren’t the only persons to love your mother’s tradition._

Sander smiled, reaching out to grab his clothes, separating them from Robbe’s. Once his jeans were on and he grabbed his shirt, yanking it over his head, he turned back towards Robbe, who was still fast asleep, his arm still draped over the spot where Sander had abandoned. He found Robbe’s jeans, pulling his phone out and placing it against the nightstand. Robbe shifted to him and Sander stared at him, waiting for his eyes to open, but they never did. 

Sander smiled, pressing one more kiss to Robbe’s forehead, before leaving the bedroom, following the scent of coffee until he found the kitchen and Amber standing in it, dressed in pajamas and an oversized shirt that might’ve been Aaron’s or someone else’s, pouring him a cup with a knowing grin on her features that he chose to ignore. 

* * *

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Sander mumbled, pressing a fleeting kiss to Robbe’s skin.

Robbe’s laptop was propped up on the edge of the bed, plugged into the wall, and a show was playing on the screen, but Sander had stopped paying attention to whatever Robbe had picked out. He’s fairly certain that Robbe was hardly paying attention as well, because Sander was pressing his lips mindlessly against the vein of Robbe’s neck. The brunet traced his fingers against his shoulder, the skin beneath his finger burning in the intricate patterns and swirls that he traced. 

Robbe smiled, his lips against Sander’s temple, making him grin. “It’s okay,” Robbe whispered. “I’m pretty sure Aaron might’ve accidentally gotten you back with that stupid running joke.”

“Where’d that come from?” Sander questioned, pushing himself up so he hovered over Robbe. The brunet grinned, flushing slightly as he ran his hand through Sander’s hair. “Robbe,” he whispered, eager to get it out of him and Robbe laughed, tilting away from him.

“One time, there was this girl in a club who kept trying to flirt with me, quite obviously too, and the guys were teasing me about it, you know,” Robbe replied, trying to sound nonchalant about the entire thing. “But, I was already out and I kept telling her that she wasn’t my type and that I was gay. But, she wasn’t getting it and frankly, it was kind of annoying. So, finally, Jens had enough of it.”

“Jens is your best friend, right?” 

Robbe nodded his head. “Anyways, she cornered me at the bar and was talking with me, trying to get me to ask for her number, and Jens walks up to me, grabs me by my face, and kisses my cheek,” he informed Sander, nearly falling into giggles. “And, basically, he pretended to be my boyfriend the entire night until she left. It was before Jens realized he was bi, but it was amusing.”

Sander laughed, burying his head against Robbe’s chest. “Well, have I elevated myself to more than a side piece yet or do you need a little more convincing?”

Robbe laughed, rolling his eyes. He shifted himself further down on the bed, so his legs were wrapped around Sander’s waist and raising his hands so his hands were wound tightly around his neck. Then, Robbe leaned up, his lips pressing against Sander’s, sweetly, softly, before Robbe pulled back, his lips hovering. “For starters, you were never a side piece. Secondly, even if you were, you would’ve kicked Jens off the podium so fast that it would be ridiculous.” 

Sander grinned, pressing their lips back together, following Robbe to the edge of the bed, opening the latter’s mouth with his own, slipping his tongue into Robbe’s mouth. The brunet let out a sigh, grinning, as he threaded his fingers into Sander’s bleached hair, pulling tightly at the strands of his hair. A warm feeling spread across Sander’s chest, filling his entire body from the tips of his fingertips to his toes, and he doesn’t think that he’s ever felt like this before, warm and fuzzy and secure and…

Robbe tugged on the strands of his hair and Sander grinned into their kiss, grabbing at his thighs and hoisting him higher on his hips, sinking himself against Robbe and all he had to offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the last chapter of Safe (so you don't have to worry about me leaving at the same spot I did for Chapter 6 of Unattainable). I thought I was going to have to extend it to five chapters, but I'm pretty confident that I'll be able to fit everything remaining into the final chapter. As for timing, I'll have the chapter up as soon as I can. I have a test and another presentation this upcoming Thursday, but hopefully, I'll be able to get back on a consistent schedule where I can get my homework and my writing done at the same time. 
> 
> After I finish Safe, I will be taking a week break before I start writing my Hogwarts AU to focus on my Potter Siblings story, which I've honestly been neglecting. But, then, I'll be back! 
> 
> I'll see you guys next chapter!


	4. The Boy He Loved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, we made it! 
> 
> I tried to get this chapter up like an hour earlier, but that didn't end up working out for me. But, this time around, my author's note will be a little more coherent than it was originally. But, I just wanted to thank everyone's continuous support, not only with Safe but also with Unattainable! These two stories have meant the absolute world to me and all of your continued support is something that I will forever hold near and dear to my heart. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you guys enjoy the final chapter of Safe and the final look into Sander's complicated mind. 
> 
> Note: I tried to keep the 'hotel' scene as close to what I felt Willem DS portrayed in the original clip. I hope that I managed to do his incredible acting some smidge of justice!

_Jens thinks you’re hot._

_By the way._

_Jens is the one with the black hair, right?_

_Dating Lucas VDH?_

_Yes?_

_Do I want to know how you know that?_

_Tell him he’s hot too._

_But, he’s nothing compared to you_ 😉

 _Do I want to know how you know_ **_that_ ** _?_

Sander smirked, leaning against the pillar of the train station, waiting for Camille. Despite having been wrapped in Robbe’s embrace for the majority of the afternoon, lazy kisses becoming heated and passionate only to turn back around, switching back and forth as easy as breathing, Sander already desperately missed his skater boy, clinging to him like a koala, two arms wound around his shoulders and two legs locked around his waist. He wanted nothing more than to go back to Robbe’s apartment, snuggle into his warmth and ignore Noor’s amused giggles.

But, there were multiple ways that he knew that. The skate park when Robbe didn’t know he was there before he had called things off, the club where he saw him dancing with Lucas, stalking Robbe’s Instagram to drink in all the sight of Robbe because that was all he thought that he had, and the _vlogs_ had Robbe had been tagged in, that made him laugh and feel a little bit better and a little worse.

_Um. Might’ve seen some videos of his on Instagram._

_Sander._

_You did not watch those stupid vlogs._

_Yes, I definitely did._

_You were absolutely adorable._

_Noor could probably give you some lessons about makeup._

_As if I couldn’t die of embarrassment any further._

_I thought you were absolutely adorable._

_You always think I’m adorable._

_Not true._

_Oh, really?_

_Yeah, should’ve seen you last night._

_I would not describe_ that _as adorable._

_Oh, what would you describe it as?_

_I think you already know._

Leaning back against the pillar, grinning silently to himself, biting down on his lip to keep himself from breaking apart in a puddle of happiness on the floor. Robbe was with him again, kissing him and loving him and sending him flirty text messages and wanting to be with him. Sander felt like he was walking on air, like if someone were to pinch him it wouldn’t be true, but all he had to do was look at his text messages and be reminded, _oh right_. 

_Who are you meeting?_

_I’m picking up my sister._

_Okay, I won’t do it then._

Sander blinked, typing out a message.

_Do what?_

“Saaaaaaaaander!” 

Sander whipped up, spotting his sister moving towards him, her purple duffle bag over his shoulder, and shoved his phone in his pocket. She rushed towards him, her brown hair whipping around her, and she dropped her bag on the floor before launching herself at Sander. He clung to his sister tightly, burying his head into her shoulder, and Camille returned his hug with as much as strength as she could. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” Sander breathed out. 

“I missed you too,” Camille grinned, leaning back to beam up at him. “How’s the new apartment? Did you meet any neighbors?”

“No,” Sander replied. “But, I met up with some old friends.”

“Really?” Camille spoke, beaming. “Senne?”

Sander smiled. “Among him, yeah!” 

“Good, I can’t wait to hear all about it!” Camille replied, turning to pick up her duffle bag. Sander stood up from the pillar as she slung it over her body. “Now, you can tell me about meeting up with your friends, but no relationship stuff, okay? I’m just not in the right headspace for it.”

Sander turned towards her. “Did something happen?”

“No, not really,” Camille replied, turning towards him, a sad smile on her face, reaching all the way to her eyes. “Just realized how lonely I was, you know. I had a lot of fun on my trip to Berlin with all my friends. But, most of them are all in committed relationships right now and… I’m not, you know?” She shrugged her shoulders. “I know I’m waiting for the right person to come into my life, but we met this chef, named Matteo, and his boyfriend, David, and I don’t know I guess I just got hit with the feels you know?”

Sander smiled. “I get that.”

“So, anyway, no relationship stuff, got it?” Camille spoke up. 

“Got it,” Sander affirmed, feeling his phone buzz in his pocket. 

“I really have to pee then I’ll be right back!” Camille continued, hurriedly, before running off again in the direction of the bathroom up ahead. Sander shook his head, laughing lightly as he pulled out his phone to see what Robbe had responded. He had sent two messages. 

_This._

**_Robbe IJzermans_ ** _sent an image._

Sander’s eyes went wide, staring down at the photo on his screen. It wasn’t a completely naked photo, but Robbe was shirtless. The angle of the photo capturing more of his chest than his face. There were numerous purple bruises that Sander had made the previous night. Sander was almost, _almost_ , ashamed of the pure _want_ that coursed through him. Even though Sander had an overdose of Robbe all afternoon, wrapped in each other’s embrace and kisses and pure _want_ , the artist suddenly found himself desperate for another fix.

His phone buzzed in his hand and Sander quickly saved the picture before he moved to the new message that Robbe had sent. 

_Want me to come over after your sister leaves?_

_Fuck, Robbe._

_I gotta survive until then._

Camille came out of the bathroom and Sander stared down at his phone, imagining the giggle that Robbe was probably doing, the thrilled look in his eyes at the effect that Robbe had on him. Camille sent him an inquisitive look, probably seeing the conflict on Sander’s face, but Sander grinned at her, knowing that he would probably text Robbe as soon as Camille headed back to her own apartment. As the two of them headed to leave the station, Sander quickly sent Robbe a text.

_I’ll text you when my sister leaves._

_I’ll be ready_ 😉

_You better be._

* * *

Sander had been hoping to surprise Robbe with a bike ride and maybe another movie marathon with Sander getting to choose the movie, but seeing Zoë with him, their arms wrapped together and teasing each other, Sander had felt his stomach drop. He remembered the look that Zoë had outside the club on the night Robbe saw him with Laura, knocking him flat on his ass, unintentionally dragging all of his shame forward, and he almost doubted his place in Robbe’s life. But, he wanted to see Robbe, the need winning over, and the look on his face, the grin that might break his face in two, had made Sander feel confident that he could handle Zoë’s disapproval. 

But, she didn’t disapprove, or at least if she did, she didn’t make it obvious. 

She had practically invited him to lunch, beaming from ear-to-ear, and Sander felt positively thrilled and relieved. Zoë insisted on Sander joining them for lunch, dragging him all the way to Senne’s car, and Senne had hugged him so tightly, as though nothing had happened. The three of them were like a family, Robbe and Zoë were as close as siblings, and Sander felt like an outsider. But Robbe held his hand under the table, his thumb rubbing across the back of his knuckles, and Senne eagerly tried to engage Sander in conversation, wanting to catch up.

Sander felt thankful, gripping Robbe’s hand back tightly. 

“Where to?” 

“Back to the university,” Sander spoke up. 

“I didn’t bring my bike,” Robbe replied.

“That’s okay,” Sander replied. Senne glanced over at him. “The university.” Senne nodded his head, driving back to the university. Senne dropped them back off at the front and Robbe waited for Sander to get out, the silent question brewing in his eyes as Sander grabbed him by the hand, dragging him back to the place where he had parked his bike in the visitor’s parking. 

As Sander approached the motorcycle, dragging Robbe behind him and digging his keys from his pocket, the brunet tugged on his hand, “Are you kidding me? You have a motorcycle?” There’s a giggle that stumbled from his mouth and Sander grinned. 

“Yeah, what about it?” 

Robbe shook his head, tugging on Sander’s hand, trying to bring him closer. The blond grinned at his boyfriend, stepping forward to capture Robbe’s waiting lips that he offered as soon as Sander was close enough. “I can’t believe we biked for that long to get to that pool and you have a _fucking_ motorcycle,” Robbe whispered, a breath escaping his lips. 

“I don’t know,” Sander mumbled. “I feel like it worked out pretty well for us, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Robbe replied, his fingertips pressing against the curve of Sander’s jaw. “Yeah, I guess it did.” Robbe grinned up at him, tilting his head up, offering his lips to Sander again, and the latter couldn’t help the grin that morphed on his face, ducking down to press their lips together fleetingly, longingly, a promise of more later. 

“Come on,” Sander whispered, pulling back, relishing in the fact that Robbe’s eyes were still close and a satisfied grin had spread across his features. Sander pulled out a helmet from beneath the seat and handed it to Robbe, who took it. “Let’s get back to my apartment.”

Robbe grinned up at him, a warmth glowing in his eye, as he took the helmet. “I thought you would never ask.” 

* * *

Robbe felt like a bubble of secureness and warmth, constantly wrapping Sander in a bubble that seeped through his clothes and his skin, holding onto him tightly and melting away any image that Sander ever had of anxiety and fear and panic. Even without Robbe around, the mere image of him was enough to comfort him and bring his anxiousness down and remind him that Robbe was always going to be around, surrounding him in a blanket of warmth and security. 

And, then, Estelle had to pop it.

 _Again_. 

He had been expecting Estelle to pop up at some point. He had tried to take every precaution, wearing a hoodie over his head, a beanie, sunglasses, and a scarf. Every time he left his apartment building, he felt like a suspicious person, about to be pulled over and questioned, but he had avoided seeing her face-to-face. Until he had rushed to the bathroom at the mini-golf place and walked out, nearly colliding with the brunette girl who was standing outside of the men’s bathroom. 

Robbe knew that something was wrong, Amber did too, but he wasn’t all that surprised on the latter. Sander had yelled and it was something that he never did. It was only in incredibly rare circumstances that Sander would yell. It was why Britt had been surprised when he had snapped, kicking her out, and it was why Amber knew that something was instantly wrong. Robbe could see it in his shoulders, curling in his arms the second Sander would let him, softening the tense muscles of his shoulders with a simple press of his lips to his neck.

“I don’t have to go if you don’t want me to,” Robbe whispered, half leaning against the bike racks. Sander had brought his motorcycle and Robbe had biked over on his own bike. There had a worried concerned look on his face, his fingers playing idly with the collar of Sander’s shirt. Sander had shaken his head, encouraged Robbe to go see his mother, because, next Friday and all weekend, Robbe was going to be _all his_ and Robbe had giggled, greedily pressing their lips together before bidding him goodbye, saying that he was looking forward to whatever Sander had planned. 

If Sander could help it, all he wanted was to spend the entire weekend wrapped up in Robbe’s arms. 

But, as Robbe biked off into the distance, Sander pulled out his phone, texting Sophie. 

_I think I should talk to your brothers now._

Her response was immediate. 

_What happened?!_

_Meet me at my apartment?_

_Fifteen minutes?_

_Already on my way._

_I’m at lunch with my eldest brother. He’s coming with._

By the time that Sander had arrived at his apartment complex, Sophie was already standing outside with an older man with scruff and a serious look on his face. Sander parked the bike in the garage and met them to let them inside the gate. Before the three of them made it to the elevator, Sophie’s brother, Alexandre, was grilling him with questions about the extents of his restraining order against Estelle, wanting to know the specifics of what the court had granted him.

Sander even found the document, giving it to Alexandre without question. 

As Alexandre looked over it, he still was not sure which of Sophie’s three overprotective brothers the man was because, in all honesty, he could be either of them. As Alexandre poured over the words of the restraining order, Sophie left the apartment, whispering something to Alexandre about Val being downstairs and grabbing Sander’s keys to lock the door behind her. Sander stood, tapping his foot impatiently and nervous. Unable to wait for Alexandre to finish, Sander moved into the living room, opening up one of his boxes and beginning to unpack one of the few remaining boxes.

He placed his small photo frames on the end table. He had gotten rid of all his photos with Britt and the frames that one held her, or their, photos were now placed of images of scenery and old photos with his family. Almost all of his photos were of him before he started bleaching his hair. Deep in the bottom of the box, he found the small dish that he used for keys in his old apartment and a photo of him and Eliott during his last trip to Paris. 

“Sophie mentioned that she was sending you messages,” Alexandre spoke up. 

“Yes,” Sander replied. 

“What kinds of messages?”

“A handful saying that the state would be unable to keep us apart, some pictures of her without a shirt or a bra, a couple of times asking about my day, but I never respond. I always block her,” Sander replied. 

“Did you save the messages?” Sander nodded his head. He hadn’t deleted any messages, especially Instagram messages, in years. Sometimes, when he was low, he liked to go through old messages and relive the conversation and the feelings that had been in his chest at the time. “Do you mind if I look at them?” 

As Alexandre looked through them, the door opened, this time emitting Val and Sophie. His friend moved over towards him, wrapping his arms around him, bringing him into a tight hug that knocked the wind out of him. Sander held onto him tightly as Alexandre looked through the messages and Sophie glanced over his shoulder. 

“And, you said that Estelle showed up at your door, knocking on doors?”

Sander nodded his head as Val pulled away. “Yeah, she knocked on the door and I almost opened it because I thought it might’ve been my boyfriend… but when I saw it was her, I texted my landlord. A couple of people complained about it and he managed to find her, I think, and got her out of the building without letting her know that I was here.” 

Alexandre nodded his head. “And, do you know if there was any other place that you saw her?” 

“Yeah,” Sander replied, nodding his head. Alexandre waited, patiently, crossing his arms over his chest and handing back his phone. Glancing at his notifications, he saw a message from Robbe, letting him know that he had arrived where he was going. “She showed up at the mini-golf place that I was at earlier with my boyfriend and his friends.” 

“What?” Val questioned, angrily. 

Sander nodded his head, turning towards Alexandre, who was waiting patiently. “She was trying really hard to kiss me, convince me that we were soulmates, and she wouldn’t stop trying to touch me. When she wouldn’t leave me alone, I reminded her of the restraining order that granted that she shouldn’t be within so many meters from me.” 

Sophie turned towards her brother. “Is there anything that you can do?”

Alexandre pulled out his phone, rising to his feet with a determined look on his face, as he turned towards his sister. “I’m going to try.” He dialed a number on his phone, pressing his phone against his ear. “Do you mind if I keep this?”

Sander nodded his head. “It’s a copy,” he informed him.

“I’ll keep you guys in touch, okay?” Alexandre promised, moving out of the apartment. He closed the door behind him with the paper in his hand and his phone between his shoulder and his ear. Sophie moved after him, locking the door with a sure movement. 

Beside Sander, Val glanced towards in his direction. It was likely that Val took in Sander’s slumped and stiff shoulders, calculated the thoughts in Sander’s mind. Despite the distance in the past years, the two of them were still aware of the other’s facial expressions and their dead giveaways. Val reached out, placing a hand on Sander’s shoulder, and grinned at him, “So, do you want to talk about this _boyfriend_ of yours?” 

Sander let out a breath, a grin forming on his face. 

“Yeah,” Sander replied. “I really don’t want to…”

He didn’t want to think about Estelle anymore, didn’t want to have to worry about her. Sander had spent too long worrying about Estelle and her appearing at every corner. When he stepped out of the door, he wanted to stop having to worry about who would be following him around. He wanted to walk up to Robbe on the street and kiss the living daylights out of him without worrying about Estelle coming after him.

“I know,” Val whispered, wrapping his arms around his shoulder. “I know.” Sophie walked over, an understanding look passed between her and Val. “Come on, I want to hear all about him before we go on vacation for the next week.”

“Vacation?”

“Yeah, we’re going home to visit my mom for about a week for her birthday,” Val replied. “I’m going to have to trust this boyfriend to take care of you, okay?”

Sander nodded his head. “He will. I promise.”

“Good, I like him already,” Val declared and Sophie laughed. 

* * *

“Are you being serious?” Sander questioned. 

There were only a few boxes remaining until this new apartment of his finally earned the long-awaited title of being _his_ apartment. There were a handful of picture frames that still needed to be hung on the walls, almost all of them were old from before Sander met Britt and dyed his hair and went to school. To him, he was almost unrecognizable with the darker hair, looking so much like his father, with a guarded smile on his face, but he loved these photos of him with Camille or Val or his mom. 

He needed new pictures with all of them and to add some with Robbe to his infinite collection of framed photographs and captured moments. 

“Yes,” Alexandre spoke over the phone. Sander hadn’t recognized the phone number when he originally called so he hadn’t answered. Thankfully, Alexandre had left him a message, telling him that he had gotten Sander’s number from Sophie, and he had wasted no time returning the call. Now, Sander was sitting on his coffee table, his anxiety building up as he thought _it couldn’t have been that easy_. “You won’t have to worry about Estelle anymore.” 

Sander swallowed, managing to force out. “How?”

“I made some calls and found out more information about the case. With her original plea deal, one of the conditions was that she adhere to all statements in the restraining order,” Alexandre continued. “As I’m sure you know, staying away from you physically was only one of the conditions that needed to be met. She also violated the condition of cutting off all contact with you, including messages on Instagram. As a result, her plea deal has been nulled and the original charges are being filed again.”

“So, I’ll have to go to court again,” Sander spoke up. 

“Maybe,” Alexandre admitted. “But, I’ll be there with you. Either way, she’ll be serving time, 5-10 years bare minimum for the breaking-and-entering charges and then whatever the court decides for the stalking charges.”

“You will?”

“Of course,” Alexandre replied. “Sophie is my little sister and you guys might’ve fallen out of touch, but I remember how close the two of you were. She wants you to feel safe and, frankly, no one should be able to get away with this level of invasiveness. So, if it ends up going to court, I will represent you. Should you choose to, of course.”

“Thank you, Alexandre,” Sander replied. 

“You’re welcome. Now, I’ll let you know when I hear anything about a court date or an update. And, let me know if you have any more questions, okay?”

“Yes, I promise that I’ll call you if I have any more questions,” Sander managed. 

Then, just like that, the call ended, the dial tone sounding into his ear, and Sander dropped his phone on his thigh. His phone slid off, landing against the coffee table, and Sander let out a sigh, propping his elbows against his knees, burying his face into his hands. He waited, pausing, because there had to be _something_ else to be done, something else to rid his life of Estelle and the constant fear of looking over his shoulder and finding her there. But, Alexandre’s words sounded through his head, _the original charges are going to being filed again_ , _she’ll be serving time_ , and Sander felt himself breathe. 

Breathe in relief. 

Breathe freely, like he couldn’t believe that it was actually going to happen. 

Everything was going to be okay. 

Everything was going to get better. 

But, as Sander sat on his coffee table, trying to drown the anxious thoughts, he couldn’t help feeling like something else was going to happen, something else to screw everything up, something that would prevent Estelle from serving time, something that would cause her to come back, and Sander let out a breath, trying to steady himself, ground himself in the _now_ , not the _maybe_ s of what might happen. 

Estelle was going to be charged again. She was going to be taken to court. Alexandre was going to be there with him to help him. That was all happening, right now. The advice that his therapist always told him sung in his head, repeatedly, like a broken record. _The only person you are going to hurt thinking of the future is yourself_. The advice grounded him, pulled him back to the present. Here and now. 

_You won’t have to worry about Estelle anymore._

Sander breathed, a smile beginning to form on his face. 

He won’t have to worry about Estelle anymore. He won’t have to worry about Estelle being there when he went to the grocery store or about her following him home. He wouldn’t have to worry about his sister or his mother being unfairly stalked on the way home because he was seen with them. He didn’t have to distance himself from anyone and everyone to keep them safe from the unknown wrath of someone desperate to be with him. He wouldn’t have to worry about Robbe getting caught in the crossfires, of Robbe getting unintentionally hurt.

His phone started to ring, the opening melody of _Rebel, Rebel_ sounding through the living room and he knew without looking that it was Robbe. He bent down, picking up his phone, to find three messages from Robbe sitting on his phone.

_I’m here._

_The landlord buzzed me in._

_I’ll be up soon._ 😘

Robbe. 

Sander let out another breath, this one shoving away all the weight on his shoulders, his chest lighting up and glowing at the thought of Robbe in his arms, all night, all afternoon tomorrow, all weekend, thanks to Jens kicking all of his roommates out for the evening. He bit down on his lip, trying to suppress the smile and the need to have Robbe, all of Robbe. All of his anxiousness had disappeared, boiled from his skin and into the air.

In fact, he couldn’t even remember what he had been anxious about. 

There was a knock on the door, Robbe, he could tell, and Sander stood up, nearly knocking over the box of picture frames onto the floor. “Shit!” he mumbled, straightening it before jogging lightly over to the front door. For the first time in forever, he opened the door without checking and found Robbe on the other side. 

His brain barely managed to register that it was Robbe on his doorstep, with his large and baggy brown jacket, his rumpled hair, and Sander was reaching out, his hand sliding into Robbe’s hair, pulling him into the apartment with one hand, sliding their lips together simply, easily. Robbe leaned against him, opening his mouth against Sander’s without him needing to ask, and Sander moved to close the door, pulling him out of the way and locking it smoothly. 

“Sorry for the mess,” Sander mumbled between their kisses. Robbe laughed, kicking off his shoes as Sander dragged his lips down Robbe’s jawline, trying to leave light purple bruises in his wake. Robbe let out a little sigh, his hands clinging to the shirt over Sander’s shoulders, and leaned his head so he could have more access to his neck, as Sander dragged his teeth along a vein. “Maybe,” Sander mumbled, dragging his lips to behind Robbe’s ear, relishing in the hitch of breath he gets out of his mouth, “We should go to a hotel, have a special night of our own.”

“Sander,” Robbe whispered, his head tilting back further. “We don’t need to go to a hotel.”

“Why not?” Sander replied. “I’ve got money from ads and commissions. Penthouse Suite, you and me, sounds romantic.”

There was a small smile that formed over Robbe’s face. “You don’t need to spend money for us to have a romantic night,” Robbe replied. The brunet turned in Sander’s arms, moving towards the kitchen and out of his grasp, but the blond reached out, snagging him by the waist, dragging him back into his chest so his backpack was against Sander’s chest, and a laugh was ripped out of him as Sander pressed another kiss behind his ear. “Did you ever go to the store? I can make the two of us dinner.”

“Yes, I did,” Sander whispered. 

“What do you want?”

“Food can wait,” Sander groaned, his hands sliding down Robbe’s body, moving to take off the straps of the backpack, suddenly consumed with the thought of Robbe and his whines. 

But, Robbe pulled himself from Sander’s grasp, “Oh, did you want to finish unpacking your boxes?” Sander let out a whine, reaching out with grabby hands to get Robbe to come back, but the skater was grinning, relishing in the sound of Sander’s whines, _karma really did exist_ , and moving towards the unopened box of picture frames. Sander swallowed down his own want and needs, following after Robbe, reminding himself that they had all night. 

* * *

Sander felt like crawling out of his skin. 

He couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t sleep. Despite the fact that he was naked beneath the sheets, despite the fact that Robbe’s arm over his chest was equal amounts comforting and suffocating, Sander felt hot, like he couldn’t breathe in the humid air around him. Slipping out from Robbe’s arm, carefully placing it on the bed so he wouldn’t disturb him, and rushing to the window, pushing it back open, leaning against the edge of the window and forcing himself to breathe. 

The momentarily burst of cold air felt like a relief to him, but his skin still felt overwhelmingly hot. 

He could hear Robbe call him back to bed and he did, climbing back into the bed, neglecting the sheets around him. He needed to cool down, he needed to _stay_ here, he needed to… Robbe shifted closer to him, his arm resting against his side, and the overwhelming feeling of comfort and suffocation returned, making it harder to breathe again. Not like it had ever gotten better. 

“Are you hot?” Sander asked suddenly. _Maybe it wasn’t just him._

“Hmm?”

“Are you hot?” he repeated. 

“No,” Robbe mumbled, shifting a little further away from him, so their skin wasn’t touching. His mind knew that he was likely just trying to help and it does help, a little, but it also hurts and Sander wondered why there were tears suddenly springing to his eyes. Robbe was still close, just a little out of reach, and he was sleeping so peacefully, his eyes blinking away. “Are you feeling any better?”

_No._

Sander stood up, slipping from the bed and moving towards the door. He heard a mumble from Robbe, an incoherent sentence half-muffled by the pillow, and Sander was overwhelmed with the urge to explain where he was going, even though he doesn’t know where he was going, “I’m hungry. I’m going to The Mier. They have great burgers there.” 

“Where?” Robbe mumbled. 

“The Mier.”

And, Sander thought he heard Robbe say something else, but he left the bedroom, left the apartment, left the complex into the chilled evening in January, following the direction that his feet took him, because all he knew was that he needed to get to safety. 

* * *

The iron gate wouldn’t budge. No matter how many times he pulled, no matter how many times he tried to get the feeble chain wrapped around the bars to break, it wouldn’t budge, not a little bit, not a lot, just absolutely _nothing_. There was little that Sander could feel, he had been walking so long, his feet automatically finding the path that he needed to get him there, and he could hardly feel his fingers, but that only made him yank and pull harder at the iron gate. 

_Please_. 

Another yank.

_Please._

_Budge._

There was something draping over his shoulders, something strong behind it, and Sander tilted into it, his hands slipping from the iron bars, into the warm fabric wrapping around him. His legs gave out beneath him, crashing into the arms of the person behind him, their arms circling his waist, gently lowering him to the ground because he couldn’t get his feet beneath him. 

“It’s okay,” someone’s voice spoke. There was a pressure against his forehead, something else being draped over his legs, leaving him completely covered. “It’s okay.” Sander shivered, his entire body twitching uncontrollably now, and his eyelids grew heavy, leaving against the body of the person there. “Sander,” the person begged, sounding desperate, sounding like Robbe, “Come on, Sander, you have to stay awake.” 

Sander opened his eyes, nodding his head, his eyes finding the person holding onto him, and holding a phone in his other hand, and he looked an awful lot like Robbe, but Sander had left Robbe in his bedroom without him realizing fully that Sander had left. 

“You need to stay awake for me, please, I’m calling an ambulance. Just stay awake.” 

Sander rested in his arms, in this man that looked a lot like Robbe, before they were painted in lights of red and blue, two people in uniforms arriving. It wasn’t the first time that Sander was picked up by paramedics and it was likely not to be the last. The two of them worked diligently, pulling him from the grasp of the other person, the man who looked like Robbe, and wrapped him up something that made him feel a little warmer, a little more him.

Then, suddenly, there’s a shout and a blonde woman filling his vision, someone that made him feel a little bit more him too. “Amber,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and unused and shivering with him. 

“It’s okay,” Amber spoke. “We found you.” 

Sander moved to speak, to tell her that he left Robbe at the apartment, to go check on him because he left the door open, but the paramedics moved, bringing something over to get Sander in the ambulance, cutting off them talking. Amber moved to help as much as she could, hovering over Sander and running a hand through his hair. As the paramedics lifted him into the back of the ambulance, one of them moving away and the other moving to sit inside with him, Amber hovered over the edge, unsure what to do. 

She moved to speak, but Sander cut her off, his voice hoarse as he managed to get out her name. 

“What is it?” the blonde turned, turning back towards him. 

“Please,” Sander whispered. “Don’t let him see me like this…”

Sander doesn’t know who _he_ was. Probably Robbe, his mind, slowly unthawing, caught up, Robbe that he left back in his bedroom at his apartment, Robbe who likely didn’t realize that he had left, because Sander had meant to, to leave him like that, in the safety and comfort of his apartment, away from Sander and all of _this_ that belonged to him. 

Amber glanced over her shoulder, likely to Aaron, before she climbed into the ambulance, the door closing behind her, and she sat down on the bench beside the paramedic checking his temperature, reaching out to run her hand through his hair. Her phone was in her other hand, and she was texting someone, but Sander didn’t have it in him to question. 

All he could think about was _please, don’t let him see_. 

There was a somber look in his eyes, one that he might’ve recognized in another time, as she whispered out, “I won’t let him see you like this, I promise.”

Sander nodded his head, “Thank you.” 

* * *

Sander hadn’t been able to see his mother since she got home. With Sander’s uptake in commissions, paired with her work calling her out to smaller jobs, they hadn’t been able to meet up, but they called each other on most days, talked about their days and his mother had been eager to hear that he patched things up with Robbe. But, this situation, wrapped up in a heat-trapping blanket with doctors hanging over him, hadn’t been how Sander wanted to see his mother or sister again. 

His mother had disappeared, into the lobby to talk to Amber, who had gone out to talk to Aaron, and Camille remained, hovering over Sander, running her hands through his hair. He felt more like himself now, the warmth seeping back into his bones and his soul, but he could see the painted worry on Camille’s face. She may have been older now, but she was still Sander’s baby sister, forever worried about him. “I’m okay,” Sander whispered. 

“You promise?” Camille whispered, her voice breaking. 

Sander nodded. “I promise.” 

“But, you’re committing yourself to an institution,” Camille started. 

Sander nodded his head. “My meds haven’t been working properly and they’ll be able to help me there.” She nodded her head, running a hand through the pieces of his hair that were resting against his forehead. The gesture reminded him of Robbe, Robbe who was sleeping peacefully in his bedroom with the door wide open, and panic filled his system. “Can you go and get Mom? I need to talk to her before sure leaves.”

“Yeah, of course,” Camille started, moving to the door, only for it to open and his mom to step into the room with a grim look on her face. Camille seemed to have noticed, moving to stand up a little straighter as she breathed out, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” their mother spoke. “Just had a little run-in with Britt in the lobby.” 

“Britt?” Sander spoke up, confused. 

“Yes,” their mother spoke, her voice quiet. “Camille called her because she thought she might’ve known where you went.” Sander glanced at his sister, spotting her eyes go wide and the guilt crept on her face, but their mother shook her head. “But, don’t worry, it was nothing I couldn’t handle. She shouldn’t be bothering you anymore, Sander.” 

There was a question nagging at the back of his mind, one that he hadn't realized until now. “How… how did you guys even find out?” Sander questioned. 

“What do you mean?” his mother questioned. 

“How did you know where I was?” Sander repeated. It seemed like a simple thing, someone could’ve called them to let him know that he was in the hospital, but Sander had been out of it the entire trip in the ambulance. The only reason that the paramedics knew about his diagnosis, or really anything about him, was due to the fact Amber had been in the ambulance with him. He didn’t have anything on him, no wallet, no id, no clothes, nothing. “Wait, how did Amber know where I was?” 

There was a look on his mother’s face. 

“Mom?”

“Robbe realized that you had left so he called Amber,” his mother spoke up. Sander could see Camille’s confused glance between the two of them. “After Robbe had found you at the Academy, Amber managed to get in touch with us and told us what hospital you were being taken to. He was waiting outside in the lobby and he’s really worried about you, Sander.”

Sander shook his head. “No, he can’t see me like this.” 

“Sander,” his mother whispered, moving towards him. 

“No, he can’t,” Sander insisted. There’s a voice in the back of his head, reminding him that Robbe _had_ seen him like this, because Robbe had been the one to find him, but Sander didn’t want Robbe to see him like this anymore. “Mom, promise me, he can’t.” 

“Okay,” his mother soothed, running her hands through his hair. “He won’t see you like this. I promise. I already sent him and Amber home. You don’t have to worry about him seeing you like this.” Sander breathed out, collapsing against the bed, his body suddenly tired. “Get some sleep, Sander. Camille and I will be back in the morning.” 

His mother gestured for Camille to leave Sander’s side. A silent look was exchanged between them, a promise that their mother would explain. His sister didn’t seem to want to leave him, but the brunette nodded her head, placing a kiss against Sander’s forehead, before leaving the room. His mother hesitated, pushing back the strands of his hair and pressing a kiss against his forehead. 

“Mom,” Sander whispered. 

His mother stopped. “What is it?”

“What did Britt say to him?” Sander questioned. There was a look on his mother’s face, it was bad, but Sander needed to hear it, “Mom, please, it’s okay.”

His mother bit down on her lip, debating it in her mind. But, eventually, she let out a breath, “I didn’t hear the full conversation. But, from what I could tell, Britt was trying to tell Robbe that he caused your episode.” He felt his eyes squeeze closed, the tears threatening to spill over, but his mother ran a hand through the strands of his hair still sticking out. “One of his friends told off Britt and made sure Robbe knew that it wasn’t true.”

Sander breathed. 

“Robbe knows that he didn’t cause it, Sander.” 

“But, does he still want to be with me?” Sander whispered back. 

“Considering the fact he took the blanket he brought for you, there is no doubt in my mind that boy wants to be with you,” his mother admitted. “But, even if he doesn’t want to be with you, you deserve someone that’s with you, for all of you, even for the parts that you don’t like. But, you have to give him the choice to make it on his own.” His mother pressed a kiss against his forehead. “Get some rest, Sander, I’ll stop by your apartment and grab a few of your things, okay?”

* * *

Before his phone had been temporarily confiscated by the institution, Sander had been able to send a brief text to Val, let him know that he had been temporarily admitted and to text Amber for more details, text his sister to let her know as well, and Camille to let her know that he was okay and safely admitted, but his thumbs hesitated on returning Robbe’s text, the one that he had sent at the end of his broadcast.

In the end, Sander couldn’t figure out what to write, what to say back, and so he didn’t text him anything and his phone got taken away. 

The first few days in the hospital dragged on. The nurses were wonderful and kind to him, but Sander felt himself falling further into the darkness with every day that passed. His doctor, Dr. Bertrand, encouraged him to talk about what was bothering him, but Sander couldn’t, not yet. Most of his sessions were him sitting in silence, staring at his hands, until his doctor handed him a sketchbook, ones with the thick paper that he loved to sketch with, encouraging him to write down or draw what he was feeling. 

The first thing that Sander drew was a figure in the middle of the first page. Dr. Bertrand would occasionally look over his shoulder, keeping her thoughts quiet, as she watched Sander drag the pencil across the page. The figure was Robbe, wearing his signature jacket and the beanie that Sander loved seeing him in and a skateboard in his grasp. He was looking the other way, away from Sander, and without thinking about it, he started scratching darkness around him, filling up the entire page, with the sole exception of about an inch of space around Robbe’s shoulders.

After Sander was done, Dr. Bertrand spoke up, pointing to the black marks that Sander had made surrounding the darkness, “What’s this?” 

“Me,” Sander mumbled. “I’m the darkness and he’s the light and he needs to be protected…” Dr. Bertrand tried to get more out of him, but Sander clamped up again, flipping to a new page and starting over with a blank sheet of paper. After three sketches and no comments from Sander, no matter how much his doctor tried to probe, Dr. Bertrand let him go back to the room and let him take the sketchbook with him. 

The bed in his room wasn’t his, digging into his back through the thin mattress, and it didn’t smell like Robbe or feel like his warmth, and Sander was having a hard time falling asleep. So, he sat up, turned on his light, and sketched Robbe until the nurse found him the next morning. The cycle repeated itself, perfectly ordinary and predictable, and Dr. Bertrand expressed her concern for his lack of sleep. 

“Sander,” Dr. Bertrand tried on Friday as Sander He could tell that she was frustrated and he couldn’t blame her. She seemed like the type of doctor who took immense care and concern for their patients, treating them like family and children, an extension of themselves. “You said that _he_ needs to be protected. What does he need to be protected from?” 

“Me,” Sander whispered. “He needs to be protected from me.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer because he knew she wouldn’t like the answer. Robbe needed to be protected from Sander because Sander broke everything he touched. His diagnosis had been one of the final straws in his father’s belt, the final thing that descended him into stepping over that boundary with Sander. When Britt learned of his diagnosis, it had changed the course of their relationship and how she saw his actions, how she saw _him_ , how she perceived his wants and needs. Surely, it would change his relationship with Robbe… 

Sander was toxic and broken and Robbe deserved someone better than him; so the minute that Sander got his phone, he typed out the message, waited for Robbe to respond, and sent him the messages.

_My mom told me that Britt talked to you and what she said._

_Britt was right._

_You’re just another obsession._

_I’m sorry to drag you into this._

_I’m sorry._

Once he sent the final message, the tears didn’t break from his eyes. He could feel them, of course, but he felt like he had reached a point that he had become unbearably numb. He felt a shell of himself, poised like a doll on the desk, staring down at the messages. A small bubble with three dots popped up, Robbe was going to text him back, but whatever he was going to say disappeared from the chat. Sander didn’t know if he should be weeping with relief or sadness, but he wasn’t. 

The lock on the cage of his heart rattled and shook, trying to break out, so he picked up a pencil and sketched again. 

* * *

As he sketched the curve of Robbe’s cheekbones, a memory from the first night that they had hung out, that night where Sander had learned how Robbe kissed, how Robbe looked beneath the layers that he presented himself in, Sander heard the door to the hallway open, but the artist didn’t look up, expecting another nurse because one had just given him his pills or his doctor trying to get him to open up again.

Once the door closed, gently, Sander glanced up, feeling his breath catch in his throat, at the person who had stepped into his room.

 _Robbe._ He could see that Robbe was similarly affected, his hand still on the door handle, gripping it tightly. Sander blinked. Robbe couldn’t be here. Robbe couldn’t see him like this. But, there he was, him and his burgundy beanie and his signature jacket, looking like a baby deer caught in headlights. 

One half of Sander’s being wanted to throw himself at Robbe, press their lips together until they couldn’t remember the texts that Sander had sent, and the other half wanted him out of the room, as far away as he could physically get, so his lightness and brightness wouldn’t be diminished by the darkness roaring loudly in Sander’s chest. 

Robbe moved to speak, but Sander was out of his chair, his hands on his shoulders and attempting to push him out of the door, out of his room, away from him and his darkness, where he wouldn’t be hurt by Sander anymore. “What are you doing here?” Sander managed, hearing the desperation in his voice. 

“Sander.” 

“You need to leave,” Sander spoke, reaching blindly for the door handle but Robbe was now covering it with his body, trapping it. 

“Sander!” 

Robbe reached up to grab onto his arms, to steady him or push him away or bring him closer, but Sander flinched away from him. There was a wide worried look in Robbe’s brown eyes and Sander repeated, hearing the uncharted emotion in his voice as he repeated, “You need to stay away!” Sander moved back towards the desk in this room that he was given, dropping down on the seat and burying his face in his hands, blocking Robbe from his sight. He couldn't see him like this, so close to the edge, so consumed in complete and utter darkness. His body vibrated intensely, on the urge of breaking apart, and he could hear Robbe stepping closer, the floor creaking beneath him, “You need to stay away from me.”

“I’m not leaving,” Robbe whispered. “Not until we talk about what you texted me.” Robbe sounded closer to him, frightening closer. Sander dropped one of his hands to find Robbe kneeling in front of him, positioned between his knees. He could see the concern in Robbe’s brown eyes which quickly connected with Sander’s green ones.

“ _Please_ ,” Sander begged. “Leave.”

Robbe shook his head, “I’m not leaving. Not until we talk.”

“Talk about what, Robbe?” Sander sighed. If Robbe knew what was good for him, he would get far away from Sander and never look back. All Sander did was hurt those around him. All Sander would do was hurt Robbe over and over again until he left. “I meant every word that I texted you.” It was a lie of course. He only said what Robbe needed to hear, to read, to run for the hills. 

“Okay,” Robbe whispered, his voice shaking. Sander glanced over at him, spotting the tears beginning to well in the corners of Robbe’s wide-brown eyes, tears that _he_ put there. “If you meant every word, look at me and say it. If you say it, I’ll know that you mean them. I’ll leave and never come back.” 

_I’ll leave and never come back._

_Good_ , Sander thought, _you need to be protected, from me._ Determined to say the words that he had said in those text messages, because that was what Robbe needed to hear, to get as far away from him as he physically could, to someone more secure and safer. If it was to make sure Robbe was protected from him, he could do it. But, as he turned to Robbe, to say the words, the words caught in his throat, refusing to come out, and tears pricked in his eyes. He wanted to protect him, but he couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ , say the words. 

He shook his head, burying his face into the heel of his hands, and Robbe let out a shaky breath. “Please,” he begged. “You need to stay away from me.”

“I’m not leaving,” Robbe insisted. 

“You say that now.” 

_But, you’ll leave. Everyone leaves._

“I’ll be saying that tomorrow.” 

Sander dropped his hand onto his knee. His hand hung off his knee, brushing against the fabric of Robbe’s jacket. Sander pulled his hand back, trying to prevent them from touching, and he noticed Robbe’s eyes following his hand and movements. Robbe’s eyes flickered back up to him and Sander swallowed, “I don’t believe you. Everyone leaves…” The image of his father, his high school girlfriend that left him after he got diagnosed, his and Val’s old friends who left him too… “They always leave…”

“I won’t,” Robbe whispered, a declaration, a promise.

“I don’t believe you.”

“But it’s true.” 

A warm hand encompasses Sander’s, Robbe’s, and he paused, briefly, his wide-doe eyes flickering up to Sander’s eyes to see if it was okay. The artist wanted to flinch away, but he couldn’t. His skin relished being held in Robbe’s again. Sander turned back to his desk, maneuvering his knees in a way where they wouldn’t touch, where Sander wouldn’t accidentally knock him on his ass. He tried to tug his hand out of Robbe’s grasp, but he didn’t surrender it, holding it tighter. 

“I’m not letting you,” Robbe promised, an echo of the morning after Robbe forgave him, for the party, for Laura, and his heart skips a beat, remembering his promise that morning. _I’m holding onto you and I’m never going to let you go._ Robbe brought Sander’s hand to his mouth, his lips brushing lightly against the flesh of his knuckles. “I’m never letting you go, Sander.”

“I’m trying to protect you,” the artist surrendered. 

“From Estelle?” 

Sander didn’t know how he knew, but he didn’t question. “No. From me.”

Robbe was quiet before speaking up. “Why would I need to be protected from you?”

“Because I’m toxic.” It was a fact of life. How many friends had left him, either because Sander pushed them away or because they outright left Sander? How many times had Sander hurt Robbe over the course of their short and beautiful relationship? “I hurt you at the party by kissing that girl, Laura, and I hurt you again because I left you alone at the apartment. Can’t you see? Everything I touch… it just breaks.”

“That’s not true,” Robbe spoke up.

“It _is_ ,” he replied, tears springing in his eyes. 

“No, it’s not,” Robbe spoke, forceful, but Sander remained unconvinced. He was just saying that to make him feel better. Sander knew that he was toxic. “Sander, look at me,” Robbe begged, but he refused to glance up at him. He could see Robbe moving, planting himself in the corner of Sander’s eyesight. “Sander,” Robbe pleaded again, “Look at me.” Sander turned, finding Robbe’s bright brown eyes staring up at him, wide and hopeful and truthful. “What you said isn’t true. You touched me and… and… I’ve never felt anything like that before. Ever since we met, you have done nothing but make me feel safe, secure, and _home_ when we’re together.” 

Sander blinked up at him, wanting to simultaneously tell him _I feel the same, you feel like home and security and whatever the word safe is supposed to really mean_ and _get away from me if you know what is good for you_. 

“I love you,” Robbe confessed, as easy as breathing.

Sander swallowed, looking away from him, unable to look back at his figure. His heart screamed in his chest, screamed out that Sander had been in love with Robbe from the moment that he spotted him in that abandoned warehouse with the moon shining on him, screamed that Sander loved him too with all of his heart and soul and being. But, his brain, every single lost love that he had ever known rushing back to him in an instant, each loaded _I love you_ that turned into _I hate you_ rushing back to him, and Sander breathed out, “You say that now, but sooner or later, you’ll grow to hate me…” 

“No, I won’t,” Robbe replied. Sander could see that he was shaking his head and standing up, hovering over the desk, trying not to stand over him, and he turned away from him, down to his sketchbook that Dr. Bertrand had given him, the one that was nearly full now, full of Robbe. “Not here, not now, not in this universe.” Sander glanced up at Robbe. _This_ universe. Not all the universes. “Sander,” Robbe breathed out. “I could never hate you.” 

“That’s what they all say.”

“That’s not true,” Robbe spoke up, shaking his head. “Does your mother hate you?” Sander paused. There was a part of him that was ashamed that he had to think about it, but he shook his head. “And Camille? Does she hate you?” Sander shook his head again and Robbe smiled, the kind meant to disguise something but Sander didn’t know what. “See? They don’t hate you. They love you so much. Give me the chance to show you that I’m going to love you, no matter what.”

His heart glowed, but unfortunately, his brain had doubts. “But, you’ll leave.” 

“No, no,” Robbe whispered. He reached out, grabbing Sander’s hand with all he had, his thumb carving a path across Snader’s knuckles. “Not in this universe.” There was that phrase again. _this_ universe. Robbe’s infinite universe theory meant that there were several new universes built from this moment, but _this universe_ ignored all the other ones, only focusing on this singular one. “In this universe, I’m staying with you. No matter what. What happens later… we’ll deal with it then, okay? I meant what I said. I love you.” 

“But, you were so scared of me.” 

After his mother had told him that Robbe had found him, he remembered the frightened look in Robbe’s eyes as he held him, secure in the blanket, the look on his face, over Amber’s shoulder as the paramedics loaded him in the ambulance. Fear. Sander had spent so long in fear that he was able to recognize it easily in Robbe’s expression. 

“No-”

“Yes, you were, I remember,” Sander whispered, pulling his hand from Robbe’s. His hand burned in need, the absence of Robbe’s warmth and security obvious and suffocating. “You were so scared of me when the paramedics were putting me in the ambulance.”

“No, I wasn’t scared _of_ you. I was scared _for_ you,” Robbe whispered. “Once I realized that you had left, I went chasing after you because I wanted you to get warm, to be safe.” Safe? He breathed in deeply. If Sander ever felt safe, he only felt so with Robbe, wrapped in his koala embrace, breathing in his scent. “But, I didn’t find you until I reached the Academy and you… you were so cold and I was worried that something serious was going to happen to you because you were out in the cold for so long.” Robbe’s hands were on either side of Sander’s face, forcing him to look up and into his bright doe-eyes as he repeated, “I was never scared of you.”

“You weren’t?” Sander whispered. 

“Never.” Sander could feel the tears beginning to spring in his eyes and he looked away. He didn’t want Robbe to see him like this. “Come on,” Robbe whispered, taking both of Sander’s hands in his own. Sander blinked up at him, confused, surrendering to Robbe’s gentle tugs. Robbe tugged on Sander’s hands to get him to turn, away from his desk, but the brunet wanted to go further, tugging on his hands and urging him to stand, “Come, I want to do something.”

With one more pull, Robbe pulled Sander to his feet. The brunet guided Sander to the center of the room, his thumbs brushing comfortingly across the back of Sander’s knuckles. Combined with the feeling of Robbe’s hands on his own, the simple touch was soothing to him and he wanted nothing more to consume everything that Robbe was willing to give him. He wasn’t scared of Sander, he loved Sander, but his brain was still screaming, trying to build back up his long-ago built defenses. But, his body was tired and Sander was tired of fighting everything bottled inside of him. 

“What are we doing?” Sander questioned. 

“Just a game that my mom and I always do. When her thoughts get too much, we always play this game… I actually got it from Moyo and his mom. Is that okay?” 

_A game?_ “Are there any rules?”

“There’s only one,” Robbe admitted. “And, it’s we’re not going to think _what if we ever…_ but, instead, we’ll think _what if we in the next minute…_ okay?” The thought of it, of the two of them together, thinking a minute at a time, was a comforting thought to Sander’s tired, exhausted mind. His brain continued to build up defenses, to keep the darkness in, to keep it all away from Robbe, and his heart settled. “So, I’ll go first. What if, in the next minute, we… kiss. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Sander replied. “That’s chill.” 

Robbe chuckled, “That’s chill.” 

Hesitantly, Robbe reached up, cupping Sander’s face in his hands. He let out a shaky breath and pressed their lips together. Sander dropped his hands onto Robbe’s waist, holding him there. This kiss was different from all the others that they shared. Robbe kissed him gently, softly. It was unsure and slow, but loving and full, and Sander’s chest glowed in warmth and adoration and _love_ for this man in his hands, filling him with light and love. But, he could feel his resolve begin to break the longer the kiss went on, the darkness within him threatening to break away. 

And, Robbe seemed to know that, his arms winding tightly around Sander’s neck, gripping onto him tightly. 

Unable to hold on, Sander’s lips slid from Robbe’s. He wanted to step away, curl into the corner and control himself and his emotions and his tears, but he also wanted to bury himself in Robbe and all Robbe had to offer. He felt the warmth and the security spread across his chest as Sander wound his arms around the smaller boy’s torso, pulling them even closer. Robbe held him tighter, clinging to him, holding him, whispering _I love you_ by his ear. It was so light and easy that Sander wondered if Robbe even _realized_ that he confessed again.

And, _that_ is when the final, lone-standing barrier that his brain had built around his unending darkness, to keep it in, to protect others, to protect _him_ , breaks and _shatters_ into a thousand small pieces and the resulting sob is _ripped_ from his chest. 

“It’s okay,” Robbe whispered. His hands are circling his back and his lips are pressing featherlight kisses against his cheek, on the tear tracks that are carving down from the corner of his eyes, a handful kisses along his jaw like Robbe couldn’t get enough, couldn’t _give_ Sander enough, and Sander’s tears and sobs increased tenfold. He buried his face deeper in Robbe’s shoulder, gripping onto him as tight as he could, holding him against him. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sander felt his legs give out, their entire axis shifting back like they were falling, but they weren’t, not really, because Robbe was gripping onto him a little tighter, holding him up from completely splattering against the tiled floor. Robbe lowered him onto the floor, holding him tightly as they descended down to the floor, pressing kissing against his forehead, and climbing to one another. Sander gripped onto the back of his jacket, the sobs continuing and increasing in volume and heaviness. 

“It’s okay,” Robbe whispered, clinging to his hair with one hand. Another sob ripped through Sander as he felt a featherlight kiss being pressed against his ear. “I’m here.” Sander gripped his arm, his jacket, holding him tightly, as another kiss was placed to his neck, his jaw, his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.” His forehead, his temple, along a path that a stray tear had made, stopping it in his tracks. “I love you so much.”

His tears continued as Sander buried his head into the crook of Robbe’s neck. 

* * *

After Sander’s tears ceased, he was starting to fall asleep, but Robbe always seemed to have that effect on him, making him relaxed enough to slip past the initial barrier of anxiousness. Robbe’s strong arms were wound tightly around him, his fingers buried in his hair, his lips pressing a ghost of kisses against the side of his face. Sander didn’t want to fall asleep, didn’t want to climb on his bed, because he was afraid that he would go to sleep and then he would wake up and Robbe would be gone. 

But, Robbe pulled him to his feet, guided him to the bed and laid down with him in the bed. Sander clung to Robbe tightly, his anchor to right here, right now, in this minute and the next if he lets him, and after one long, lucid, sleepy kiss, Sander was out like a light, Robbe’s body warmth seeping through his skin. It was the best sleep that Sander had gotten since he checked in, his body heavy and groggy and running on fumes, barely surviving as it was. 

But, Sander woke up to the sound of the door opening. 

It was a gentle sound, barely piercing through the dreamless sleep, but it stirred him all the same. There was less light than there had been when he had gone to sleep. For a fraction of a second, Sander thought that Robbe had left, leaving him alone. But, his arm was still rising and falling with the movement of Robbe’s breath, the warmth of his body still present beneath his arm, the smell of him still filling Sander’s sense. 

Sander shifted, opening his eyes a little to see that Robbe was still there, wrapped up in Sander’s arms. He glanced over at Sander briefly, a gentle smile on his face, and Sander let out a breath of relief, one he didn’t realize that he was holding. Then, Sander buried his face a little deeper into Robbe’s neck, clinging to his chest a little tighter. 

* * *

Sander was sitting back down at his desk, his eyes drooping heavily, still ready to fall asleep, but he watched the skater boy pitter around the room, collecting anything and everything that belonged to Sander. The skater boy was a man on a mission, a mission to get Sander home, and the blond couldn’t help watching him, completely and utterly fascinated with the way that Robbe moved around the room, like he already knew what to grab. 

Robbe grabbed the t-shirt that Sander had discarded on his shelf. He held it in his hands, staring at it for a fraction of a second, before he folded it up meticulously and placed it in his duffle bag that sat in the corner of his room, where Sander had left it. Next, he grabbed the sketchbook that Sander had brought but never used it because Dr. Bertrand had given him the one that was sitting on his desk, encouraging him to use it to get his feelings out. Robbe glanced over at Sander, who was still watching him.

An amused smile crossed Robbe’s face. “What do you want me to do with all your pencils?” 

“There’s a pencil pouch in the front of my bag,” Sander spoke. Robbe bent down, finding the dark red pouch in the front of the bag. “And, you can just throw them in there.”

“Isn’t there a specific order that you like things?” 

“Yeah,” Sander admitted. “But, they all get messed up and jumbled no matter how hard I try.” Robbe hesitated, glancing at Sander, who was still sitting on his perch. “Don’t worry, Robbe. I’ll fix them in my art room when I feel up to it.” He seemed convinced, putting the pencils into the pouch, and placing it back in the front of his bag. Robbe moved towards Sander, glancing towards the sketchbook. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to keep that one.” 

“Because it’s some form of art therapy,” Robbe piped up. His hand went to the page, his finger tracing across the picture of his own cheekbone. Sander expected Robbe to flinch away, seeing how many of photos of Robbe were in this sketchbook. But, he continued, shrugging his shoulders, “It’s meant to get your feelings out onto the sheet of paper and give the doctor an idea of what your mindset is, help them properly evaluate you.” 

“I guess,” Sander whispered. “Do I want to know how you know that?”

Robbe chuckled. “I am studying to become a doctor.”

Sander chuckled. They had talked about it once, after pizza and making out, and Sander had spent the majority of the afternoon calling him _Dr. IJzermans_ and relishing in the way that Robbe blushed so easily, his cheeks bright red and beautiful. “Yeah, I know, but why do you know so much about art therapy?” Sander replied. “I figured you would want to be a doctor in a major hospital not…” 

Robbe smiled down at him, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. Sander leaned into the touch, looking up at him. “Think again.” Sander felt himself chuckle, his body still weighing down on him, and Robbe leaned down, pressing their lips together. Sander leaned into his touch, raising up to keep their lips together. His body was still sluggish, still exhausted, and heavy, but Robbe made the sluggishness go away, just a smidge. 

Sander pulled back. “Are you sure that you want to go to my apartment all weekend?”

Robbe nodded his head. “Yes, I’m sure.” He cupped Sander’s face with both hands, forcing him to look up into Robbe’s eyes. “There’s no place that I’d rather be.” He placed a kiss against Sander’s forehead, pulling him closer against his chest. Sander let out a sigh, snuggling into the fabric of Robbe’s shoulder and wrapping one arm loosely around his waist and holding onto his thigh with his other hand. 

The door to the hallway opened. 

Sander turned in Robbe’s grasp, expecting to see his mom or Dr. Bertrand, but Val stood in the doorway, looking disheveled and out of breath, worry etched onto his face. His hair was twisted into a bun on the nape of his neck, with loose strands falling over his face. Sander could tell that Robbe was confused, but Sander pushed him back a little bit, letting him know that it was okay. Sander stood up, moving towards Val and greedily accepting the hug that Val practically threw himself into. 

The disheveled form of Sophie came around the corner, her hair twisted into a ponytail, dressed in sweats and an oversized sweatshirt of Val’s, with her purse over her shoulder, and she squeezed into the room, closing the door as she pushed the two men out of the path of the door. 

“I’m sorry, I just got your message,” Val breathed into Sander’s shoulder, gripping him so tightly that he was almost struggling to breathe. But, Sander gripped back onto Val’s shoulder tightly, spotting Sophie moving around them, further in the room, towards Robbe. 

“Hi, I’m Sophie.”

“Robbe.” 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Robbe! I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Val continued, quickly, “My mom’s moved out to the country and the cell reception is really awful out there and we only got your message on the way back into the city. We found your mom in the lobby and she told the receptionist to let us through.” 

“Val,” Sander whispered. “It’s okay.” Val pulled away from him, keeping his hands firmly planted on Sander’s shoulders. “You and Sophie were on vacation, visiting your mom and there is nothing that you could’ve been doing here.” Val nodded his head. “Besides, Robbe has been taking care of me, so I’ve been in good hands.” 

As if on cue, Robbe let out a laugh, probably about half a giggle, hiding his mouth behind his hand, alongside Sophie, who’s laugh was melodious and synced with Robbe’s almost perfectly. Sander felt himself smile, staring at the boy, the boy who loved him, who wanted him, and he spotted a look of relief on Val’s face as Val moved towards them, holding out his hand towards Robbe. 

“I’m Val,” he introduced. 

“Robbe,” the skater boy introduced. A nervous look was painted across his features, but Sander knew that Robbe had absolutely no reason to be nervous. Based on purely Sander’s description of him, Val (and Sophie) already loved and adored him. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Sander.”

“Likewise,” Val replied. “Thank you for taking care of him.” 

Robbe smiled, a nervous smile. “There’s nothing else I would rather be doing.” 

The door opened again, but this time it was Sander’s mother, who breathed in relief at the sight of all of them in the room. His mother moved towards him, wrapping her arms around his body, holding onto him tightly and protectively now that he was standing up. “Dr. Bertrand has cleared you to leave,” his mother informed him. “But, she wants you to make an appointment during the week so she can follow up with you. But, she thinks that you being at home will do you some good.”

“Does she want the sketchbook back?” 

“She told me that you could keep it,” his mother replied. As if on cue, he heard someone shuffling around behind him, likely taking the sketchbook and folding it up. If Sander had to guess, it was probably Robbe and he heard the soft murmurs of Val and Robbe in the corner. “Come on, let’s get you home.” Sander nodded his head, turning to find Robbe moving towards him. Sander reached out, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and pulling him close to his side. 

He spotted Val carrying his duffle bag. “Val, I can-”

“Don’t start, Sander,” his friend replied, taking Sophie’s hand and practically dragging her out of the room with their fingers laced together. “I’m making sure that you get home safely.” Sander let out a sigh and Robbe wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss against the curve of his jaw. His mother ushered them out of the room with a small smile on your face. 

* * *

Sander had heard the first alarm go off. Robbe shifted beneath Sander’s arms, moving towards where his phone was propped up on the nightstand to silence it. He expected Robbe to climb out of bed, to take a shower and get dressed, but he was surprised, and more relieved than he would admit, once he felt Robbe return in his light grasp, pressing his back flush against Sander’s chest, letting out a sigh. 

For most of the weekend, it had just been him and Robbe. 

After his mother and friends had made sure that he was comfortable at home, Robbe closed the door behind them, getting undressed and quickly climbed in the bed with Sander, who had collapsed into his sheets the moment he stepped into his bedroom. Without hesitating, Sander wrapped his arms tightly around Robbe, pulling him against his chest. Normally, Sander loved to be wrapped in Robbe’s arms, his face buried in his neck, but Sander wanted, needed, to feel Robbe in his arms, there and present with him, and Robbe didn’t speak up about it being different, simply snuggled further in his arms, wrapping his hand around Sander’s. 

When Sander had woken up on Saturday afternoon, the bed was empty, but there was a hand-written, folded note on the pillow that he had used with Robbe’s curled handwriting. _Out to lunch with Yasmina to study for a quiz on Monday in one of our classes. Be back around 1 with food._ Sander had smiled, a little, staring at his handwriting until Robbe materialized in the doorway with a burger and fries, bending down to kiss him, apologizing for leaving him. 

And, after Sander ate, Robbe returned, snuggling in his arms, holding him tightly and turning on his television to a show that Sander hadn’t seen before. At the end of every episode, Robbe would get up, move around the apartment for about ten minutes. Sander could hear him moving around in the living room, pulling a couple of things out of boxes, but then he would always, slipping back into his arms like he never left. Sander would wrap his arms around him, pulling him closer, and Robbe would press a kiss to his lips. Then, at the end of the next episode, the cycle would repeat. 

On Sunday, Sander slept more and Robbe only left the bed to make food or to walk around the apartment, bringing his flashcards with him to keep his mind sharp. When Robbe returned to the bed, this time with croques exactly like Sander’s mother used to prepare, Sander was overwhelmed with emotion and kissed him, whispering, “My genius”, and Robbe blushed so red that Sander wished he had his camera. 

But, there were bad moments too. There were one or two times over the weekend where Sander would insist that Robbe should leave, to go to his own apartment, to hang out with his friends, so Robbe wouldn’t worry about him all the time. Robbe took his face in his hands and kissed his cheek, his lips, his nose, his forehead, every part of his face, and straddled him once Sander’s breathing evened back out. Robbe assured him that he was there to be with Sander because he _wanted_ to be there with him.

But, now, it was Monday. 

Sander knew Robbe was going to leave him soon. He could feel that Robbe was awake, trying to keep his breathing level and consistent. Robbe shifted his hand, the thumb of his hand brushing across the knuckles of his own hand, and Sander relished in the simple gesture, the loving gesture, and shifted closer to Robbe’s warmth and comfort. His alarm went off again and Robbe silenced it again, shifting back in bed. 

After another alarm went off, he heard Robbe let out a deep breath and turned in Sander’s arms, seeing the bright blue light from his phone, hearing the gentle tapping of Robbe typing out a text message. Then, Robbe shifted, his lips pressing against Sander’s cheek, long and hesitant, before he shifted the sheets, getting out of the bed, and, without even thinking about it, he asked, “Where are you going?” 

He could hear Robbe let out a light chuckle before the bed shifted against, his weight resting on the mattress, dipping it back down. Sander opened his eyes, blinking up at Robbe with his messy bed-hair, bare-chested and dressed only in his briefs. “I’ve got a quiz and I promised Yasmina that I would study with her between our classes.”

“Oh,” Sander mumbled. Robbe leaned down, pressing their lips together. It wasn’t passionate or frenzied, but it was the most loving kiss that Sander had been on the other end of. Somehow, this simple kiss stirred up his insides more than he would admit to anyone (besides Robbe). “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Robbe whispered. 

“Are you going to come back?” Sander questioned, fearful that the answer was going to be no. 

But, there was a small smile that crept across Robbe’s features, illuminated briefly by the unique concoction of moonlight and artificial light from the streetlights outside, and Robbe whispered, “Always.” Sander let out a breath of relief, angling his face up, and Robbe pressed their lips together again. This one was longer and Sander clung to the back of Robbe’s head, but Robbe pulled away. 

“ _Succes_ ,” Sander whispered. 

“Thank you,” Robbe replied, pressing another kiss against his lips before moving to the bathroom and the shower. As Robbe disappeared into the bathroom, Sander smiled. He pulled the covers back around him, the weight of the blankets comforting and relaxing, and he reached out, grabbing the pillow that Robbe used to replace the feeling of having his arms around someone. Even without Robbe there, sleep came easily and he didn’t hear Robbe leave the apartment. 

* * *

“You’re kidding!” 

“I swear, it was the worst-timed meet-cute that I have ever witnessed in my life.” Sander could hear Robbe speaking in the other room to someone else, half-laughing as he spoke. The bedroom door was barely cracked open, but Sander could’ve picked Robbe’s voice out from anywhere. “The two had slammed into each other, spilling their drinks _all_ over Jens, but somehow, the two of them managed to exchange numbers and ruthlessly pined over one another until Lucas, of all people, just grabbed him by the shirt and kissed the daylights out of him.”

“But, they’re still together?” another voice, a female voice, _Camille_ , spoke. 

“Yes, actually,” Robbe replied. Sander sat up in his bed, spotting a folded pair of sweats and one of Sander’s t-shirts on the edge of the bed. Sander pulled the articles of clothing on, swinging his legs out from beneath the sheets, his limbs still weighing heavily. “The two of them are ridiculously in love, but I don’t think they’ve said it yet in all honesty. Too proud.”

Sander pushed himself to his feet, lightly shuffling towards the living room.

“ _Men_.” 

“Honestly.”

Sander stepped into the living room, spotting Robbe on the couch with Camille by his side. The remaining box of picture frames was sitting on the coffee table still, right where Sander had left it, but he and Camille were going through them. His little sister was looking at one of the pictures fondly and Robbe seemed to be observing every detail of the photos. Sander leaned against the door, watching them. Robbe was still dressed in his jeans and dark green sweater, but Camille was wearing a pair of legging and an over-sized hoodie.

“I didn’t hear you come back,” Sander mumbled, earning their attention. 

Robbe glanced up from the frames, smiling at him. While Camille simply glanced up from the frames, beaming up at him, Robbe bounded to his feet, crossing the small space to where Sander was leaning against and placing a gentle kiss against the taller man’s lips. He knew that Robbe likely didn’t want to kiss him too long in front of Camille, but Sander grabbed at his shirt, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, relishing in the fact that he was _here_ and he had come back to him. 

“What is it?” Robbe questioned, pulling back, looking up at him with worried eyes. 

Sander snuck a glance at his sister. She was humming from the couch, pulling more picture frames from the box, looking at each of them in turn. He turned back to Robbe, who had a worried look in his eyes and whispered, “I’m just glad to see that you came back.” 

Robbe sent him a reassuring smile, one that made his chest glow and his shoulders a little lighter, a little less consumed by the darkness that swirled around his chest. Robbe reached out to touch his chest, oblivious to the way that Saner’s chest lit up, a flame that only continued to glow. “Always.” 

* * *

Sander had recognized Milan from the photos on Robbe’s Instagram. Now that he had spotted them in the same room with one another, and had officially met the man, he could definitely see that Milan and Robbe were a pair of siblings, going through thick and thin with one another. Zoë seemed to be another piece of their small family, wedged between the two of them, and Sander smiled, watching the three of them from across the party. 

Between Senne and Noor, who both had hugged him tightly as soon as he and Robbe had arrived, the two of them had made sure that Sander was never alone in the uncomfortable newness of everyone around him. He knew the Broerrrs and they were thrilled to see him, but easily gave him the space that he needed. Jens had teased him light-heartedly about keeping Robbe as long as he wanted and Aaron had hugged him tightly and Moyo had pulled him away. 

“So, you want a photography job?” Senne questioned, leaning against the wall. 

“Um, possibly,” Sander admitted, glancing at him. He clung to the red plastic cup in his hand, filled with a soda or punch that someone had made. He took a sip before turning to Senne, “Engagement photos?” 

“Yeah, maybe wedding photos too?” 

Sander laughed. “You have a lot of confidence in my ability to take good photos.” 

“Sander, you literally have a portfolio on your Instagram page,” Senne laughed, showing him. More than half of his posts _were_ photos that he had taken and edited. “If anyone can take high-quality photos of anything, it’s you. Besides, I would love to have you as the person to document everything at my wedding. But, if it adds too much stress on you, I would understand it if you said no.” 

“I would love to, Senne,” Sander admitted. “Just let me know whatever day you and Zoë decide that you want to do engagement photos, and where, and I’ll be there with my camera.” 

Senne grinned over at him, before reaching up and patting his shoulder. “Your boyfriend is incoming.” 

Sander turned, finding Robbe making a beeline towards him. He expected to feel Robbe’s koala grip on him, burying his face into the crook of his neck, and he wanted to _relish_ in Robbe’s touch, his _boyfriend’s_ touch and weight against him. But Robbe’s hand wrapped around his own, pulling him away from the safety of the wall and towards the middle of the living room where a small group of dancers had ended up, Amber and Aaron among them, swaying. Sander knew what Robbe was doing and he let out a mock groan, but Robbe was grinning from ear-to-ear. 

“Robbe,” Sander groaned, letting his boyfriend twirl him in the middle of the dance floor, trying not to spill his drink as he did so. His drink wavered in his hand and Robbe grinned up at him, wrapping an arm securely around his shoulders, holding him in place. Sander wrapped his free arm around Robbe’s waist, pulling him a little closer to him. 

Robbe grinned up at him, a small content smile on his face. “What are you doing on Valentine’s Day?” 

“I don’t know,” Sander mused, jetting out his lip. “What do you have planned? We could rent a hotel room and just have the two of us.” 

Robbe laughed, rolling his eyes, rocking them back and forth to the beat of the music that Sander never really listened to. Both of Robbe’s arms looped around his neck, locking in place at the nape of his neck. “Well, I don’t know about Valentine’s Day night, but my mom wants to do her annual Valentine’s Day tradition of watching a movie at home. And, she wanted to invite you, Camille, and Katrijn.”

Sander felt his heart swell in his chest. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” Robbe smiled up at him. “Normally, it’s just the two of us plus Jens, his dad, and his little sister. But, Lucas is coming too and she wants the two of you to be _properly_ introduced in the traditional setting of her own apartment. It’s all dependent on her getting out before Valentine’s Day, but she’s already upset that she missed Christmas.” 

“Robbe.”

“Huh?”

“I’d love to.” 

Robbe grinned, standing on his toes, dragging their lips together. His kiss tasted like the punch that they had both been drinking, but it was slow and sweet. There was a cat-call, likely from Jens, and Sander felt one of Robbe’s unloop from around Sander’s neck, likely flipping off the originator of the cat-call. But, Sander leaned further into Robbe’s touch, pushing his mouth open, and kissing him with everything that he had, a declaration, a promise. 

* * *

Even sitting in the art room, Sander could hear the gentle run of the shower through the walls. 

After the two of them had gotten back to Sander’s apartment, Robbe had teased him about joining him and, while the offer sounded lovely and positively tempting, Sander knew that he needed to work on the stack of commissions so he declined. While a vast majority of his clients were understanding, because life did get in the way and it had recently, Sander knew that he needed to work, at least a little, to get back into the swing of some semblance of _normal._

Or, whatever normal was now, with Robbe in his arms, without Estelle over his shoulder, in this new apartment of his, that was _his_ now, completely and irrevocably. 

Sitting at his desk, Sander flipped through the photos of Noée, a friend of Arthur’s, that Eliott had sent him, the signs that he was going to have to draw. The main focus of the photos was on her hands, but Sander knew that it was her. It was hardly the commission that needed to be done as soon as physically possible, Arthur’s birthday was months away. But, even if he didn’t know what they meant, he knew how important it was to get the signs right and he wanted it to get Noée’s approval before he started a hard sketch or painted it. 

His phone buzzed. Eliott.

_So, when exactly am I going to meet this boyfriend?_

Sander laughed. 

_I don’t know, Lucas. Maybe if I can bring him to Paris._

_Fuck, how did you know?_

_You and Eliott’s text patterns are very different._

_I don’t even know why you try._

Sander laughed, exiting out of his messages with Eliott. 

He pulled up his photos, finding the picture that he wanted easily. It had turned out good, especially considering the fact that the remaining photos turned out to be an utter mess. After their lunch with Zoë and Senne and they had hung out in his apartment, Sander had learned that Robbe didn’t like his photo taken, but he had no problems with taking photos _with_ Sander. It was one of the resulting photos, Sander with his tongue out, Robbe’s hands in his hair, and seated firmly against Robbe’s chest. 

There was a part of him that didn’t want to post the photo, to keep it between himself and Robbe, but there was another part that wanted to shout out his love for Robbe to the world, because Robbe was his forever, his always, and there wasn’t going to be anyone to change that. The thought of Estelle, or someone _like_ Estelle, made him pause, but the thought of Robbe, his bright smile and his doe-eyes made him feel brave.

And so, it didn’t take much more thinking for him to post the photo on his Instagram. 

_‘Cause we’re lovers_ _  
_ _And that is a fact_ _  
_ _Yes, we’re lovers_   
And that is that. 

Robbe came in the art room a couple of minutes later, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet, dressed in one of the sweats he brought over and one of Sander’s t-shirts. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, probably not wanting to disturb him, but Sander smiled at the sight of him, breathing out a “Hey”.

Robbe giggled. “Hey.” 

“Sorry,” Sander apologized. “I didn’t hear you get out.”

“It’s okay. I just wasn’t for sure where you went.” Robbe moved towards him wrapping his arms around Sander’s shoulders. Robbe leaned his chin on Sander’s shoulder, looking down at the piece of art beneath him, and breathed out, “Mind if I join you?” 

“No,” Sander replied, leaning back in his arms, a feeling of secureness and warmth filling his chest and blood and soul, feeling _safe_ as long as he’s in Robbe’s arms. He tilted his head back to look at Robbe, his hair went and damp and smelling like all of Sander's things, but still somehow Robbe. “I don’t mind at all."

Robbe smiled, pressing a featherlight kiss against his temple before leaning back against him, holding him tightly around his shoulders. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to come and see my skam-related meltdowns and/or what I'm working on next, I am on Tumblr with the same username, ravenbrenna09. I do post snippets and sneak peeks of what I'm working on and I would love to hear from all of you. 
> 
> Once again, thank you for supporting me on this incredible and lengthy journey!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys have enjoyed this chapter. I love you all and I cannot wait to see you guys in the next chapter!
> 
> (I'm still trying to make it all into 4 chapters... It just might be really long 4 chapters)


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